i^S^SE 

r 


The  FIRING  LINE 


"She  faced  him,  white  as  death,  looking  at 
him  blindly." 

[Page  136.] 


THE 

FIRING  LINE 


BY 

ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS 

|l 

Author  of 

"The  Fighting  Chance/'  "The  Younger  Set/' 
"The  Reckoning/'  Etc. 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 
Publishers     ::      ::     New  York 


COPTRIOHT,  1908,  irr 
ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS 


TO 

MARGERY   CHAMBERS 


912820 


CONTENTS 


I. — A  SKIRMISH 1 

II. — A  LANDING 17 

III. — AN  ADVANCE 25 

IV. — RECONNAISSANCE S8 

V. — A  FLANK  MOVEMENT      ..,,..  50 

VI. — ARMISTICE 62 

VII.— A  CHANGE  OF  BASE 84 

VIII. — MANCEUVERING         . 94 

IX. — THE  INVASION 116 

X. — TERRA  INCOGNITA 146 

XI. — PATHFINDERS 168 

XII. — THE  ALLIED  FORCES 185 

XIII.— THE  SILENT  PARTNERS 200 

XIV.— STRATEGY 228 

XV.— UNDER  FIRE 245 

XVI. — AN  ULTIMATUM 260 

XVII.— ECHOES 275 

XVIII.— PERIL 294 

vii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.— THE  LINE  OP  BATTLE 314 

XX.— A  NEW  ENEMY      ....                      .  336 

XXI. — REINFORCEMENTS 351 

XXII.— THE  ROLL  CALL 368 

XXIII.— A  CAPITULATION 386 

XXIV. — THE  SCHOOL  OF  THE  RECRUIT  ....  406 

XXV.— A  CONFERENCE 419 

XXVI. — SEALED  INSTRUCTIONS  .        .        .       ,               .  436 

XXVII.— MALCOURT  LISTENS 452 

XXVIIL— HAMIL  is  SILENT 471 

XXIX.— CALYPSO'S  GIFT  489 


THE  FIRING  LINE 


CHAPTER    I 

A    SKIRMISH 

As  the  wind  veered  and  grew  cooler  a  ribbon  of  haze 
appeared  above  the  Gulf-stream. 

Young  Hamil,  resting  on  his  oars,  gazed  absently 
into  the  creeping  mist.  Under  it  the  ocean  sparkled 
with  subdued  brilliancy ;  through  it,  shoreward,  green 
palms  and  palmettos  turned  silvery ;  and,  as  the  fog 
spread,  the  sea-pier,  the  vast  white  hotel,  bathing-house, 
cottage,  pavilion,  faded  to  phantoms  tinted  with  rose 
and  pearl. 

Leaning  there  on  his  oars,  he  could  still  make  out 
the  distant  sands  flecked  with  the  colours  of  sunshades 
and  bathing-skirts ;  the  breeze  dried  his  hair  and  limbs, 
but  his  swimming-shirt  and  trunks  still  dripped  salt 
water. 

Inshore  a  dory  of  the  beach  guard  drifted  along  the 
outer  line  of  breakers  beyond  which  the  more  adven 
turous  bathers  were  diving  from  an  anchored  raft. 
Still  farther  out  moving  dots  indicated  the  progress  of 
hardier  swimmers ;  one  in  particular,  a  girl  capped  with 
a  brilliant  red  kerchief,  seemed  to  be  already  nearer  to 
Hamil  than  to  the  shore. 

It  was  all  very  new  and  interesting  to  him — the 
shore  with  its  spectral  palms  and  giant  caravansary,. 

1 


THE  FIRING  LINE 


•J'.he  misty,  opalescent  sea  where  a  white  steam-yacht  lay 
anchored  north  of  him — the  Ariani — from  which  he  had 
conic ;  ,ancl  en  board  of  which  the  others  were  still  doubt 
less  asleep — Portlaw,  Malcourt,  and  Wayward.  And 
at  thought  of  the  others  he  yawned  and  moistened  his 
lips,  still  feverish  from  last  night's  unwisdom ;  and  lean 
ing  forward  on  his  oars,  sat  brooding,  cradled  by  the 
flowing  motion  of  the  sea. 

The  wind  was  still  drawing  into  the  north;  he  felt 
it,  never  strong,  but  always  a  little  cooler,  in  his  hair 
and  on  his  wet  swimming-shirt.  The  flat  cloud  along 
the  Gulf-stream  spread  thickly  coastward,  and  after  a 
little  while  the  ghosts  of  things  terrestrial  disappeared. 

All  around  him,  now,  blankness — save  for  the  gray 
silhouette  of  the  Ariani.  A  colourless  canopy  sur 
rounded  him,  centred  by  a  tiny  pool  of  ocean.  Overhead 
through  the  vanishing  blue,  hundreds  of  wild  duck  were 
stringing  out  to  sea ;  under  his  tent  of  fog  the  tarnished 
silver  of  the  water  formed  a  floor  smoothly  unquiet. 

Sounds  from  the  land,  hitherto  unheard,  now  came 
strangely  distinct;  the  cries  of  bathers,  laughter,  the 
muffled  shock  of  the  surf,  doubled  and  redoubled  along 
the  sands;  the  barking  of  a  dog  at  the  water's  edge. 
Clear  and  near  sounded  the  ship's  bell  on  the  Ariani;  a 
moment's  rattle  of  block  and  tackle,  a  dull  call,  an 
swered;  and  silence.  Through  which,  without  a  sound, 
swept  a  great  bird  with  scarce  a  beat  of  its  spread 
wings ;  and  behind  it,  another,  and,  at  exact  intervals 
another  and  another  in  impressive  processional,  sailing 
majestically  through  the  fog;  white  pelicans  winging 
inland  to  the  lagoons. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  wind,  which  had  become  fit 
ful,  suddenly  grew  warm.  All  around  him  now  the  mist 
was  dissolving  into  a  thin  golden  rain;  the  land-breeze 

* 


A   SKIRMISH 


freshened,  blowing  through  distant  jasmine  thickets 
and  orange  groves,  and  a  soft  fragrance  stole  out  over 
the  sea. 

As  the  sun  broke  through  in  misty  splendour,  the 
young  man,  brooding  on  his  oars,  closed  his  eyes ;  and 
at  the  same  instant  his  boat  careened  violently,  almost 
capsizing  as  a  slender  wet  shape  clambered  aboard  and 
dropped  into  the  bows.  As  the  boat  heeled  under  the 
shock  Hamil  had  instinctively  flung  his  whole  weight 
against  the  starboard  gunwale.  Now  he  recovered  his 
oars  and  his  balance  at  the  same  time,  and,  as  he  swung 
half  around,  his  unceremonious  visitor  struggled  to  sit 
upright,  still  fighting  for  breath. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  managed  to  say ;  "  may 
I  rest  here?  I  am — "  She  stopped  short;  a  flash  of 
sudden  recognition  came  into  her  eyes — flickered,  and 
faded.  It  was  evident  to  him  that,  for  a  moment,  she 
thought  she  had  met  him  before. 

"  Of  course  you  may  stay  here,"  he  said,  inclined 
to  laugh. 

She  settled  down,  stretching  slightly  backward  as 
though  to  give  her  lungs  fuller  play.  In  a  little  while 
her  breathing  grew  more  regular ;  her  eyes  closed  for  a 
moment,  then  opened  thoughtfully,  skyward. 

Hamil's  curious  and  half-amused  gaze  rested  on  her 
as  he  resumed  the  oars.  But  when  he  turned  his  back 
and  headed  the  boat  shoreward  a  quick  protest  checked 
him,  and  oars  at  rest,  he  turned  again,  looking  inquir 
ingly  at  her  over  his  shoulder. 

"  I  am  only  rowing  you  back  to  the  beach,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  row  me  in ;  I  am  perfectly  able  to  swim 
back." 

"  No  doubt,"  he  returned  drily,  "  but  haven't  you 
played  tag  with  Death  sufficiently  for  one  day  ?  " 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Death?  "  She  dismissed  the  grotesque  suggestion 
with  a  shrug,  then  straightened  up,  breathing  freely 
and  deeply.  "  It  is  an  easy  swim,"  she  remarked,  occu 
pied  with  her  wet  hair  under  the  knotted  scarlet ;  "  the 
fog  confused  me;  that  was  all." 

"  And  how  long  could  you  have  kept  afloat  if  the 
fog  had  not  lifted?  "  he  inquired  with  gentle  sarcasm. 
To  which,  adroitly  adjusting  hair  and  kerchief,  she 
made  no  answer.  So  he  added :  "  There  is  supposed  to 
be  a  difference  between  mature  courage  and  the  fool- 
hardiness  of  the  unfledged " 

"What?" 

The  quick  close-clipped  question  cutting  his  own 
words  silenced  him.  And,  as  he  made  no  reply,  she  con 
tinued  to  twist  the  red  kerchief  around  her  hair,  and  to 
knot  it  securely,  her  doubtful  glance  returning  once  or 
twice  to  his  amused  face. 

When  all  had  been  made  fast  and  secure  she  rested 
one  arm  on  the  gunwale  and  dropped  the  other  across 
her  knees,  relaxing  in  every  muscle  a  moment  before 
departure.  And,  somehow,  to  Hamil,  the  uncon 
scious  grace  of  the  attitude  suggested  the  "  Resting 
Hermes  " — that  sculptured  concentration  of  suspended 
motion. 

"  You  had  better  not  go  just  yet,"  he  said,  point 
ing  seaward. 

She  also  had  been  watching  the  same  thing  that  he 
was  now  looking  at,  a  thin  haze  which  again  became  ap 
parent  over  the  Gulf-stream. 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  thicken  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know ;  you  had  a  close  call  last  time '* 

"  There  was  no  danger." 

"  I  think  there  was  danger  enough ;  you  were  appar 
ently  headed  straight  out  to  sea " 

4 


A    SKIRMISH 


"  I  heard  a  ship's  bell  and  swam  toward  it,  and  when 
the  fog  lifted  I  found  you." 

"  Why  didn't  you  swim  toward  the  shore?  You 
could  hear  the  surf — and  a  dog  barking." 

"  I  " — she  turned  pink  with  annoyance — "  I  sup 
pose  I  was  a  trifle  tired — if  you  insist.  I  realised  that 
I  had  lost  my  bearings ;  that  was  all.  Then  I  heard  a 
ship's  bell.  .  .  .  Then  the  mist  lifted  and  I  saw  you — 
but  I've  explained  all  that  before.  Look  at  that  exas 
perating  fog ! " 

Vexation  silenced  her ;  she  sat  restless  for  a  few  sec 
onds,  then: 

"  What  do  you  think  I  had  better  do?  " 

"  I  think  you  had  better  try  to  endure  me  for  a  few 
minutes  longer.  I'm  safer  than  the  fog." 

But  his  amusement  left  her  unresponsive,  plainly 
occupied  with  her  own  ideas. 

Again  the  tent  of  vapour  stretched  its  magic  folds 
above  the  boat  and  around  it ;  again  the  shoreward 
shapes  faded  to  phantoms  and  disappeared. 

He  spoke  again  once  or  twice,  but  her  brief  replies 
did  not  encourage  him.  At  first,  he  concluded  that  her 
inattention  and  indifference  must  be  due  to  self-con 
sciousness  ;  then,  slightly  annoyed,  he  decided  they  were 
not.  And,  very  gradually,  he  began  to  realise  that  the 
unconventional,  always  so  attractive  to  the  casual  young 
man,  did  not  interest  her  at  all,  even  enough  to  be  aware 
of  it  or  of  him. 

This  cool  unconsciousness  of  self,  of  him,  of  a  situa 
tion  which  to  any  wholesome  masculine  mind  contained 
the  germs  of  humour,  romance,  and  all  sorts  of  amus 
ing  possibilities,  began  to  be  a  little  irksome  to  him. 
And  still  her  aloofness  amused  him,  too. 

"  Do  you  know  of  any  decorous  reason  why  we 
5 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


should  not  talk  to  each  other  occasionally  during  this 
fog  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  turned  her  head,  considered  him  inattentively, 
then  turned  it  away  again. 

"  No,"  she  said  indifferently ;  "  what  did  you  desire 
to  say?" 

Resting  on  his  oars,  the  unrequited  smile  still  for 
lornly  edging  his  lips,  he  looked  at  his  visitor,  who  was 
staring  into  the  fog,  lost  in  her  own  reflections ;  and 
never  a  glimmer  in  her  eyes,  never  a  quiver  of  lid  or 
lash  betrayed  any  consciousness  of  his  gaze  or  even  of 
his  presence.  And  he  continued  to  inspect  her  with 
increasing  annoyance. 

The  smooth  skin,  the  vivid  lips  slightly  upcurled,  the 
straight  delicate  nose,  the  cheeks  so  smoothly  rounded 
where  the  dark  thick  lashes  swept  their  bloom  as  she 
looked  downward  at  the  water — all  this  was  abstractly 
beautiful ;  very  lovely,  too,  the  full  column  of  the  neck, 
and  the  rounded  arms  guiltless  of  sunburn  or  tan. 

So  unusually  white  were  both  neck  and  arms  that 
Hamil  ventured  to  speak  of  it,  politely,  asking  her  if 
this  was  not  her  first  swim  that  season. 

Voice  and  question  roused  her  from  abstraction ;  she 
turned  toward  him,  then  glanced  down  at  her  unstained 
skin. 

"My  first  swim?"  she  repeated;  "oh,  you  mean 
my  arms?  No,  I  never  burn;  they  change  very  little." 
Straightening  up  she  sat  looking  across  the  boat  at 
him  without  visible  interest  at  first,  then  doubtfully,  as 
though  in  an  eifort  to  say  something  polite. 

"  I  am  really  very  grateful  to  you  for  letting  me 
sit  here.  Please  don't  feel  obliged  to  amuse  me  during 
this  annoying  fog." 

"  Thank  you ;  you  are  rather  difficult  to  talk  to. 
6 


A   SKIRMISH 


But  I  don't  mind  trying  at  judicious  intervals,"  he 
said,  kughing. 

She  considered  him  askance.  "  If  you  wish  to  row 
in,  do  so.  I  did  not  mean  to  keep  you  here  at  sea " 

"OK,  I  belong  out  here;  I'm  from  the  Ariani 
yonder ;  you  heard  her  bell  in  the  fog.  We  came 
from  Nassau  last  night.  .  .  .  Have  you  ever  been  to 
Nassau?" 

The  girl  rodded  listlessly  and  glanced  at  the  white 
yacht,  now  becoming  visible  through  the  thinning  mist. 
Somewhere  above  in  the  viewless  void  an  aura  grew  and 
spread  into  a  blinding  glory ;  and  all  around,  once 
more,  the  fog  turned  into  floating  golden  vapour  shot 
with  rain. 

The  girl  placed  both  hands  on  the  gunwales  as 
though  preparing  to  rise. 

"  Not  yet !  "  said  Hamil  sharply. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  " — looking  up  surprised,  still 
poised  lightly  on  both  palms  as  though  checked  at  the 
instant  of  rising  into  swift  aerial  flight — so  light,  so 
buoyant  she  appeared. 

"  Don't  go  overboard,"  he  repeated. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I'm  going  to  row  you  in.'* 

"  I  wish  to  swim ;  I  prefer  it." 

"  I  am  only  going  to  take  you  to  the  float " 

"  But  I  don't  care  to  have  you.  I  am  perfectly 
able  to  swim  in " 

"  I  know  you  are,"  he  said,  swinging  clear  around 
in  his  seat  to  face  her,  "  but  I  put  it  in  the  form  of  a 
request ;  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  let  me  row  you  part 
way  to  the  float?  This  fog  is  not  ended." 

She  opened  her  lips  to  protest ;  indeed,  for  a  moment 
it  looked  as  if  she  were  going  overboard  without  further 
2  7 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


argument;  then  perhaps  some  belated  idea  of  civility 
due  him  for  the  hospitality  of  his  boat  restrained  her. 

"  You  understand,  of  course,  that  I  am  quite  able  to 
swim  in,"  she  said. 

"  Yes ;  may  I  now  row  you  part  way  ?  The  fog  is 
closing  in  again." 

She  yielded  with  a  pretty  indifference,  none  the  less 
charming  because  there  was  no  flattery  in  it  for  him. 
He  now  sat  facing  her,  pushing  his  oars  through  the 
water ;  and  she  stole  a  curious  glance  at  his  features — 
slightly  sullen  for  the  moment — noticing  his  well-set, 
well-shaped  head  and  good  shoulders. 

That  fugitive  glance  confirmed  the  impression  of 
recognition  in  her  mind.  He  was  what  she  had  ex 
pected  in  breeding  and  physique — the  type  usually  to 
be  met  with  where  the  world  can  afford  to  take  its 
leisure. 

As  he  was  not  looking  at  her  she  ventured  to  con 
tinue  her  inspection,  leaning  back,  and  dropping  her 
bare  arm  alongside,  to  trail  her  fingers  through  the 
sunlit  water. 

"  Have  we  not  rowed  far  enough?  "  she  asked  pres 
ently.  "  This  fog  is  apparently  going  to  last  for 
ever." 

"  Like  your  silence,"  he  said  gaily. 

Raising  her  eyes  in  displeasure  she  met  his  own 
frankly  amused.  / 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,"  he  asked,  "  exactly  why  I  insisted 
on  rowing  you  in  ?  I'm  afraid  " — he  glanced  at  her 
with  the  quick  smile  breaking  again  on  his  lips — "  I'm 
afraid  you  don't  care  whether  I  tell  you  or  not.  Do 
you?" 

"  If  you  ask  me — I  really  don't,"  she  said.  "  And, 
Dy  the  way,  do  you  know  that  if  you  turned  around 

8 


A   SKIRMISH 


properly  and  faced  the  stern  you  could  make  better 
progress  with  your  oars?" 

"  By  '  better  '  do  you  mean  quicker  progress  ?  "  he 
asked,  so  naively  that  she  concluded  he  was  a  trifle 
stupid.  The  best-looking  ones  were  usually  stupid. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  she  said,  impatient.  "  It's  all 
very  well  to  push  a  punt  across  a  mill-pond  that  way, 
but  it's  not  treating  the  Atlantic  with  very  much 
respect." 

"  You  were  not  particularly  respectful  toward 
the  Atlantic  Ocean  when  you  started  to  swim  across 
it." 

But  again  the  echo  of  amusement  in  his  voice  found 
no  response  in  her  unsmiling  silence. 

He  thought  to  himself :  "  Is  she  a  prude,  or  merely 
stupid !  The  pity  of  it ! — with  her  eyes  of  a  thinking 
goddess! — and  no  ideas  behind  them!  What  she  un 
derstands  is  the  commonplace.  Let  us  offer  her  the 
obvious." 

And,  aloud,  fatuously :  "  This  is  a  rarely  beautiful 
scene " 

"What?"  crisply. 

And  feeling  mildly  wicked  he  continued: 

— "  Soft  skies,  a  sea  of  Ionian  azure ;  one  might 
almost  expect  to  see  a  triareme  heading  up  yonder  out 
of  the  south,  festooned  with  the  golden  fleece.  This  is 
just  the  sort  of  a  scene  for  a  triareme;  don't  you 
think  so?" 

Her  reply  was  the  slightest  possible  nod. 

He  looked  at  her  meanly  amused: 

"  It's  really  very  classical,"  he  said,  "  like  the  voy 
age  of  Ulysses;  I,  Ulysses,  you  the  water  nymph  da- 
lypso,  drifting  in  that  golden  ship  of  Romance " 

"  Calypso   was  a  land  nvmph,"   she  observed,   ah- 
9* 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


eently,  "  if  accuracy  interests  you  as  much  as  your 
monologue." 

Checked  and  surprised,  he  began  to  laugh  at  his 
own  discomfiture ;  and  she,  elbow  on  the  gunwale,  small 
hand  cupping  her  chin,  watched  him  with  an  expression 
less  directness  that  very  soon  extinguished  his  amuse 
ment  and  left  him  awkward  in  the  silence. 

"  I've  tried  my  very  best  to  be  civil  and  agreeable," 
he  said  after  a  moment.  "  Is  it  really  such  an  effort 
for  you  to  talk  to  a  man  ?  " 

"  Not  if  I  am  interested,"  she  said  quietly. 

He  felt  that  his  ears  were  growing  red;  she  noticed 
it,  too,  and  added :  "  I  do  not  mean  to  be  too  rude ; 
and  I  am  quite  sure  you  do  not  either." 

"  Of  course  not,"  he  said ;  "  only  I  couldn't  help 
seeing  the  humour  of  romance  in  our  ocean  encounter. 
I  think  anybody  would — except  you " 

"What?" 

The  crisp,  quick  question  which,  with  her,  usually 
seemed  like  an  exclamation,  always  startled  him  into 
temporary  silence ;  then  he  began  more  carefully : 

"  There  was  one  chance  in  a  million  of  your  find 
ing  my  boat  in  the  fog.  If  you  hadn't  found  it — " 
He  shook  his  head.  "  And  so  I  wish  you  might  recog 
nise  in  our  encounter  something  amusing,  humourous  " 
— he  looked  cautiously  at  her — "  even  mildly  romantic 

"To  what?" 

"  Why — to  say — to  do  something  characteristically 
— ah " 

"What?" 

" — Human  !  "  he  ventured — quite  prepared  to  see 
her  rise  wrathfully  and  go  overboard. 

Instead  she  remained  motionless,  those  clear,  dis' 
10 


A   SKIRMISH 


concerting  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  him.  Once  or  twice 
he  thought  that  her  upper  lip  quivered ;  that  some  deli 
cate  demon  of  laughter  was  trying  to  look  out  at  him 
under  the  lashes ;  but  not  a  lid  twitched ;  the  vivid  lips 
rested  gravely  upon  each  other.  After  a  silence  she 
said  : 

"  What  is  it,  human,  that  you  expect  me  to  do  ? 
Flirt  with  you?" 

"  Good  Lord,  no ! "  he  said,  stampeded. 

She  was  now  paying  him  the  compliment  of  her  full 
attention;  he  felt  the  dubious  flattery,  although  it 
slightly  scared  him. 

"  Why  is  it,"  she  asked,  "  that  a  man  is  eternally 
occupied  in  thinking  about  the  effect  he  produces  on 
woman — whether  or  not  he  knows  her — that  seems  to 
make  no  difference  at  all  ?  Why  is  it  ?  " 

He  turned  redder;  she  sat  curled  up,  nursing  both 
ankles,  and  contemplating  him  with  impersonal  and 
searching  curiosity. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said ;  "  is  there  any  earthly  reason 
why  you  and  I  should  be  interested  in  each  other — 
enough,  I  mean,  to  make  any  effort  toward  civility  be 
yond  the  bounds  of  ordinary  convention?  " 

He  did  not  answer. 

"  Because,"  she  added,  "  if  there  is  not,  any  such 
effort  on  your  part  borders  rather  closely  on  the  of 
fensive.  And  I  am  quite  sure  you  do  not  intend 
that." 

He  was  indignant  now,  but  utterly  incapable  of 
retort. 

"  Is  there  anything  romantic  in  it  because  a  chance 
swimmer  rests  a  few  moments  in  somebody's  boat?  "  she 
asked.  "  Is  that  chance  swimmer  superhuman  or  in 
human  or  ultra-human  because  she  is  not  consciously, 

11 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


and  simperingly,  preoccupied  with  the  fact  that  there 
happens  to  be  a  man  in  her  vicinity?  " 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  broke  out,  "  do  you  think  I'm 
that  sort  of  noodle " 

"  But  I  don't  think  about  you  at  all,"  she  inter 
rupted  ;  "  there  is  not  a  thought  that  I  have  which 
concerns  you  as  an  individual.  My  homily  is  delivered 
in  the  abstract.  Can't  you — in  the  abstract — under 
stand  that? — even  if  you  are  a  bit  doubtful  concerning 
the  seven  deadly  conventions?  " 

He  rested  on  his  oars,  tingling  all  over  with  wrath 
and  surprise. 

"  And  now,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  think  it  time  to 
go.  The  sun  is  almost,  shining,  you  see,  and  the  beauty 
of  the  scene  is  too  obvious  for  even  you  to  miss." 

"  May  I  express  an  opinion  before  you  depart  ?  " 

"  If  it  is  not  a  very  long  or  very  dissenting  opinion." 

"  Then  it's  this :  two  normal  and  wholesome  people — 
a  man  and  a  woman,  can  not  meet,  either  conventionally 
or  unconventionally,  without  expressing  some  atom  of 
interest  in  one  another  as  individuals.  I  say  two — per 
fectly — normal — people " 

"But  it  has  just  happened!"  she  insisted,  prepar 
ing  to  rise. 

"  No,  it  has  not  happened." 

"  Realty.    You  speak  for  yourself  of  course " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  am  interested ;  I'd  be  stupid  if  I  were 
not.  Besides,  I  understand  conventions  as  well  as  you 
do " 

"  You  don't  observe  them " 

**  I  don't  worship  them !  " 

She  said  coolly :  "  Women  should  be  ritualists.  It 
is  safer." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  in  this  case.     I  haven't  the 


A    SKIRMISH 


slightest  hope  of  making  this  incident  a  foundation  for 
another ;  I  haven't  the  least  idea  that  I  shall  ever  see 
you  again.  But  for  me  to  pretend  an  imbecile  indif 
ference  to  you  or  to  the  situation  would  be  a  more 
absurd  example  of  self -consciousness  than  even  you  have 
charged  me  with." 

Wrath  and  surprise  in  her  turn  widened  her  eyes ; 
he  held  up  his  hand :  "  One  moment ;  I  have  not  finished. 
May  I  go  on?  " 

And,  as  she  said  nothing,  he  resumed :  "  During  the 
few  minutes  we  have  been  accidentally  thrown  together, 
I  have  not  seen  a  quiver  of  human  humour  in  you, 
There  is  the  self-consciousness — the  absorbed  preoccu 
pation  with  appearances." 

"  What  is  there  humourous  in  the  situation?  "  she 
demanded,  very  pink. 

"  Good  Lord !  What  is  there  humourous  in  any  situ 
ation  if  you  don't  make  it  so?  " 

"  I  am  not  a  humourist,"  she  said. 

She  sat  in  the  bows,  one  closed  hand  propping 
her  chin ;  and  sometimes  her  clear  eyes,  harboring 
lightning,  wandered  toward  him,  sometimes  toward  the 
shore. 

"  Suppose  you  continue  to  row,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  I'm  doing  you  the  honour  of  thinking  about  what 
you've  said." 

He  resumed  the  oars,  still  sitting  facing  her,  and 
pushed  the  boat  slowly  forward ;  and,  as  they  continued 
their  progress  in  silence,  her  brooding  glance  wavered, 
at  intervals,  between  him  and  the  coast. 

"  Haven't  you  any  normal  human  curiosity  con 
cerning  me?"  he  asked  so  boyishly  that,  for  a  second, 
again  from  her  eyes,  two  gay  little  demons  seemed  to 
peer  out  and  laugh  at  him. 

13 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


But  her  lips  were  expressionless,  and  she  only 
said :  "  I  have  no  curiosity.  Is  that  criminally  ab 
normal?  " 

"Yes;  if  it  is  true.     Is  it?" 

"  I  suppose  it  is  too  unflattering  a  truth  for  you 
to  believe."  She  checked  herself,  looked  up  at  him,  hesi 
tated.  "  It  is  not  absolutely  true.  It  was  at  first.  I  am 
normally  interested  now.  If  you  knew  more  about  me 
you  would  very  easily  understand  my  lack  of  interest  in 
people  I  pass;  the  habit  of  not  permitting  myself  to 
be  interested — the  necessity  of  it.  The  art  of  indiffer 
ence  is  far  more  easily  acquired  than  the  art  of  for 
getting." 

"  But  surely,"  he  said,  "  it  can  cost  you  no  effort  to- 
forget  me." 

"  No,  of  course  not."  She  looked  at  him,  unsmil 
ing  :  "  It  was  the  acquired  habit  of  indifference  in  me 
which  you  mistook  for — I  think  you  mistook  it  for 
stupidity.  Many  do.  Did  you  ?  " 

But  the  guilty  amusement  on  his  face  answered  her ; 
she  watched  him  silently  for  a  while. 

"  You  are  quite  right  in  one  way,"  she  said ;  "  an 
unconventional  encounter  like  this  has  no  significance 
— not  enough  to  dignify  it  with  any  effort  toward  in 
difference.  But  until  I  began  to  reprove  man  in  the 
abstract,  I  really  had  not  very  much  interest  in  you 
as  an  individual." 

And,  as  he  said  nothing :  "  I  might  better  have  been 
in  the  beginning  what  you  call  '  human  ' — found  the 
situation  mildly  amusing — and  it  is — though  you  don't 
know  it !  But  " — she  hesitated — "  the  acquired  instinct 
operated  automatically.  I  wish  I  had  been  more — 
human;  I  can  be."  She  raised  her  eyes;  and  in  them 
glimmered  her  first  smile,  faint,  yet  so  charming  a 

14 


A   SKIRMISH 


revelation  that  the  surprise  of  it  held  him  motionless 
at  his  oars. 

"  Have  I  paid  the  tribute  you  claim  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  If  I  have,  may  I  not  go  overboard  at  my  convenience  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer.  She  laid  both  arms  along  the 
gunwales  once  more,  balancing  herself  to  rise. 

"  We  are  near  enough  now,"  she  said,  "  and  the  fog 
is  quite  gone.  May  I  thank  you  and  depart  without 
further  arousing  you  to  psychological  philosophy?  " 

"  If  you  must,"  he  said ;  "  but  I'd  rather  row 
you  in." 

"  If  I  must?  Do  you  expect  to  paddle  me  around 
Cape  Horn?  "  And  she  rose  and  stepped  lightly  onto 
the  bow,  maintaining  her  balance  without  effort  while 
the  boat  pitched,  fearless,  confident,  swaying  there  be 
tween  sky  and  sea. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  gravely  nodding  at  him. 

"  Good-bye,  Calypso !  " 

She  joined  her  finger  tips  above  her  head,  prelim 
inary  to  a  plunge.  Then  she  looked  down  at  him  over 
her  shoulder. 

"  I  told  you  that  Calypso  was  a  land  nymph." 

"  I  can't  help  it ;  fabled  Calypso  you  must  remain 
to  me." 

"  Oh ;  am  I  to  remain — anything — to  you — for  the 
t  next  five  minutes  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  forget  you  ?  " 

"  1  don't  think  so — for  five  minutes.  Your  satisfied 
vanity  will  retain  me  for  so  long — until  it  becomes  hun 
gry  again.  And — but  read  the  history  of  Ulysses — 
carefully.  However,  it  was  nice  of  you — not  to  name 
yourself  and  expect  a  response  from  me.  I'm  afraid — 
I'm  afraid  it  is  going  to  take  me  almost  five  minutes 
to  forget  you — I  mean  your  boat  of  course.  Good-bye !  " 

15 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Before  he  could  speak  again  she  went  overboard, 
rose  swimming  with  effortless  grace.  After  a  dozen 
strokes  or  so  she  turned  on  one  side,  glancing  back  at 
him.  Later,  almost  among  the  breakers,  she  raised  one 
arm  in  airy  signal,  but  whether  to  him  or  to  somebody 
on  the  raft  he  did  not  know. 

For  five  minutes — the  allotted  five — he  lay  on  his 
oars  watching  the  sands.  At  moments  he  fancied  he  could 
still  distinguish  her,  but  the  distance  was  great,  and 
there  were  many  scarlet  head-dresses  among  the  bathers 
ashore  and  afloat. 

And  after  a  while  he  settled  back  on  his  oars,  cast 
a  last  glance  astern,  and  pulled  for  the  Ariani,  aboard 
of  which  Portlaw  was  already  bellowing  at  him  through 
an  enormous  megaphone. 

Malcourt,  who  looked  much  younger  than  he  really 
was,  appeared  on  the  after  deck,  strolling  about  with 
a  telescope  tucked  up  under  one  arm,  both  hands  in  his 
trousers  pockets ;  and,  as  Hamil  pulled  under  the  stern* 
he  leaned  over  the  rail :  "  Hello,  Hamil !  Any  trade 
with  the  natives  in  prospect?  How  far  will  a  pint  of 
beads  go  with  the  lady  aborigines  ?  " 

"Better  ask  at  the  Beach  Club,"  replied  Hamil, 
laughing ;  "  I  say,  Malcourt,  I've  had  a  corking  swim 
out  yonder " 

"  Go  in  deep  ?  "  inquired  Malcourt  guilelessly. 

"  Deep?    It's  forty  fathoms  off  the  reef." 

"  I  didn't  mean  the  water,"  murmured  Malcourt. 


CHAPTER    H 

A    iLANDING 

THE  Ariani  was  to  sail  that  evening,  her  destination 
being  Miami  and  the  West  Coast  where  Portlaw  desired 
to  do  some  tarpon  fishing  and  Wayward  had  railroad 
interests.  Malcourt,  always  in  a  receptive  attitude,  was 
quite  ready  to  go  anywhere  when  invited..  Otherwise 
he  preferred  a  remunerative  attention  to  business. 

Hamil,  however,  though  with  the  gay  company 
aboard,  was  not  of  them;  he  had  business  at  Palm 
Beach ;  his  luggage  had  already  been  sent  ashore ;  and 
now,  prepared  to  follow,  he  stood  a  little  apart  from 
the  others  on  the  moonlit  deck,  making  his  adieux  to 
the  master  of  the  Ariani. 

"  It's  been  perfectly  stunning — this  cruise,"  he  said. 
"  It  was  kind  of  you,  Wayward ;  I  don't  know  how  to 
tell  you  how  kind — but  your  boat's  a  corker  and  you 
are  another " 

"  Do  you  like  this  sort  of  thing?  "  asked  Wayward 
grimly. 

"  Like  it  ?  It's  only  a  part  of  your  ordinary  lives — 
yours  and  Portlaw's ;  so  you  are  not  quite  fitted  to  un 
derstand.  But,  Wayward,  I've  been  in  heavy  harness. 
You  have  been  doing  this  sort  of  heavenly  thing — how 
many  years  ?  " 

"  Too  many.  Tell  me ;  you've  really  made  good  this 
last  year,  haven't  you,  Garry?  " 

17 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Hamil  nodded.     "  I  had  to." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  the  older  man's  arm.  "  Why 
do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  when  they  gave  me  that  first 
commission  for  the  little  park  at  Hampton  Hills — thanks 
to  you — I  hadn't  five  dollars  in  all  the  world." 

Wayward  stood  looking  at  him  through  his  spec 
tacles,  absently  pulling  at  his  moustache,  which  was  al 
ready  partly  gray. 

"  Garry,"  he  said  in  his  deep,  pleasant  voice  that 
was  however  never  very  clear,  "  Portlaw  tells  me  that 
you  are  to  do  his  place.  Then  there  are  the  new  parks 
in  Richmond  Borough,  and  this  enormous  commission 
down  here  among  the  snakes  and  jungles.  Well — God 
bless  you.  You're  twenty -five  and  busy.  I'm  forty-r 
five  and  " — he  looked  drearily  into  the  younger  man's 
eyes — "  burnt  out,"  he  said  with  his  mirthless  laugh — 
"  and  still  drenching  the  embers  with  the  same  stuff 
that  set  'em  ablaze.  .  .  .  Good-bye,  Garry.  Your  boat's 
alongside.  My  compliments  to  your  aunt." 

At  the  gangway  the  younger  man  bade  adieu  to 
Malcourt  and  Portlaw,  laughing  as  the  latter  indig 
nantly  requested  to  know  why  Hamil  wasted  his  time 
attending  to  business. 

Malcourt  drew  him  aside: 

"  So  you're  going  to  rig  up  a  big  park  and  snake 
preserve  for  Neville  Cardross?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  try,  Louis.  You  know  the  family,  I 
believe,  don't  you?  " 

Malcourt  gazed  placidly  at  him.  "  Very  well  in 
deed,"  he  replied  deliberately.  "  They're  a  good,  do 
mestic,  mother-pin-a-rose-on-me  sort  of  family.  .  .  . 
I'm  a  sort  of  distant  cousin — run  of  the  house  and 
privilege  of  kissing  the  girls — not  now,  but  once.  I'm 
going  to  stay  there  when  we  get  back  from  Miami." 

18 


A    LANDING 


"  You  didn't  tell  me  that?  "  observed  Hamil,  sur 
prised. 

"  No,"  said  Malcourt  carelessly,  "  I  didn't  know  it 
myself.  Just  made  up  my  mind  to  do  it.  Saves  hotel 
expenses.  Well — your  cockle-shell  is  waiting.  Give  my 
regards  to  the  family — particularly  to  Shiela."  He 
looked  curiously  at  Hamil ;  "  particularly  to  Shiela,"  he 
repeated;  but  Hamil  missed  the  expression  of  his  eyes 
in  the  dusk. 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  throw  us  over  like  this  ?  " 
demanded  Portlaw  as  the  young  men  turned  back  to 
gether  across  the  deck. 

"  Got  to  do  it,"  said  Hamil  cheerfully,  offering  his 
hand  in  adieu. 

"  Don't  plead  necessity,"  insisted  Portlaw.  "  You've 
just  landed  old  man  Cardross,  and  you've  got  the  Rich 
mond  parks,  and  you're  going  to  sting  me  for  more  than 
I'm  worth.  Why  on  earth  do  you  cut  and  run  this 
way?" 

"  No  man  in  his  proper  senses  really  knows  why 
he  does  anything.  Seriously,  Portlaw,  my  party  is 
ended " 

"  Destiny  gave  Ulysses  a  proud  party  that  ksted 
ten  years;  wasn't  it  ten,  Malcourt?"  demanded  Port- 
law.  "  Stay  with  us,  son ;  you've  nine  years  and  eleven 
months  of  being  a  naughty  boy  coming  to  you — includ 
ing  a  few  Circes  and  grand  slams " 

"  He's  met  his  Circe,"  cut  in  Malcourt,  leaning  lan 
guidly  over  the  rail ;  "  she's  wearing  a  scarlet  hand 
kerchief  this  season " 

Portlaw,  laughing  fatly,  nodded.  "  Louis  discov^ 
ered  your  Circe  through  the  glasses  climbing  into  youi* 
boat " 

"  What  a  busy  little  beast  you  are,  Malcourt,"  ob- 
19 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


served  Hamil,  annoyed,  glancing  down  at  the  small  boat 
alongside. 

"  '  Beast '  is  good !  You  mean  the  mere  sight  of 
her  transformed  Louis  into  the  classic  shote,"  added 
Portlaw,  laughing  louder  as  Hamil,  still  smiling  through 
his  annoyance,  went  over  the  side.  And  a  moment  later 
the  gig  shot  away  into  the  star-set  darkness. 

From  the  bridge  Wayward  wearily  watched  it 
through  his  night  glasses;  Malcourt,  slim  and  grace 
ful,  sat  on  the  rail  and  looked  out  into  the  Southern 
dusk,  an  unlighted  cigarette  between  his  lips. 

"  That  kills  our  four  at  Bridge,"  grumbled  Port- 
law,  leaning  heavily  beside  him.  "  We'll  have  to  play 
Klondike  and  Preference  now,  or  call  in  the  ship's  cat. 
.  .  .  Hello,  is  that  you,  Jim  ?  "  as  Wayward  came  aft, 
limping  a  trifle  as  he  did  at  certain  times. 

"  That  girl  had  a  good  figure — through  the  glasses. 
I  couldn't  make  out  her  face ;  it  was  probably  the  limit ; 
combinations  are  rare,"  mused  Malcourt.  "  And  then — 
the  fog  came !  It  was  like  one  of  those  low-down  classi 
cal  tricks  of  Jupiter  when  caught  philandering." 

Portlaw  laughed  till  his  bulky  body  shook.  "  The 
Olympian  fog  was  wasted,"  he  said ;  "  John  Garret 
Hamil  3d  still  preserves  his  nursery  illusions." 

"  He's  lucky,"  remarked  Wayward,  staring  into  the 
gloom. 

"  But  not  fortunate,"  added  Malcourt ;  "  there's  a 
difference  between  luck  and  fortune.  Read  the  French 
classics." 

Wayward  growled;  Malcourt,  who  always  took  a 
malicious  amusement  in  stirring  him  up,  grinned  at  him 
sideways. 

"  No  man  is  fit  for  decent  society  until  he's  lost  all 
his  illusions,"  he  said,  "  particularly  concerning  women." 

20 


A    LANDING 


"  Some  of  us  have  been  fools  enough  to  lose  our 
illusions,"  retorted  Wayward  sharply,  "  but  you  never 
had  any,  Malcourt;  and  that's  no  compliment  from  me 
to  you." 

Portlaw  chuckled.  "  We  never  lose  illusions ;  we  mis 
lay  'em,"  he  suggested ;  "  and  then  we  are  pretty 
careful  to  mislay  only  that  particular  illusion  which 
inconveniences  us."  He  jerked  his  heavy  head  in  Mai- 
court's  direction.  "  Nobody  clings  more  frantically  to 
illusions  than  your  unbaked  cynic;  Louis,  you're  not 
nearly  such  a  devil  of  a  fellow  as  you  imagine  you  are." 

Malcourt  smiled  easily  and  looked  out  over  the 
waves. 

"  Cynicism  is  old-fashioned,"  he  said ;  "  dogma  is  up 
to  date.  Credo !  I  believe  in  a  personal  devil,  virtuous 
maidens  in  bowers,  and  rosewood  furniture.  As  for  il 
lusions  I  cherish  as  many  as  you  do !  "  He  turned  with 
subtle  impudence  to  Wayward.  "  And  the  world  is  lit 
tered  with  the  shattered  fragments." 

"  It's  littered  with  pups,  too,"  observed  Wayward, 
turning  on  his  heel.  And  he  walked  away,  limping, 
his  white  mess  jacket  a  pale  spot  in  the  gloom. 

Malcourt  looked  after  him ;  an  edge  of  teeth  glim 
mering  beneath  his  full  upper  lip. 

"  It  might  be  more  logical  if  he'd  cut  out  his  alcohol 
before  he  starts  in  as  a  gouty  marine  missionary,"  he 
observed.  "  Last  night  he  sat  there  looking  like  a 
superannuated  cavalry  colonel  in  spectacles,  neuritis 
twitching  his  entire  left  side,  unable  to  light  his  own 
cigar;  and  there  he  sat  and  rambled  on  and  on  about 
innate  purity  and  American  womanhood." 

He  turned  abruptly  as  a  steward  stepped  up  bear 
ing  a  decanter  and  tray  of  glasses. 

Portlaw  helped  himself,  grumbling  under  his  breath 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


that  he  meant  to  cut  out  this  sort  of  thing  and  set 
Wayward  an  example. 

Malcourt  lifted  his  glass  gaily : 

"  Our  wives  and  sweethearts ;  may  they  never 
meet!" 

They  set  back  their  empty  glasses ;  Portlaw  started 
to  move  away,  still  muttering  about  the  folly  of  self- 
indulgence;  but  the  other  detained  him. 

"  Wayward  took  it  out  of  me  in  4  Preference  '  this 
morning  while  Garry  was  out  courting.  I'd  better 
liquidate  to-night,  hadn't  I,  Billy?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Portlaw. 

The  other  shook  his  head.  "  I'll  get  it  all  back  at 
Miami,  of  course.  In  the  mean  time — if  you  don't  mind 
letting  me  have  enough  to  square  things " 

Portlaw  hesitated,  balancing  his  bulk  uneasily  first 
on  one  foot,  then  the  other. 

"  I  don't  mind ;  no ;  only " 

"Only  what?"  asked  Malcourt.  "I  told  you  I 
couldn't  afford  to  play  cards  on  this  trip,  but  you  in 
sisted." 

"  Certainly,  certainly !  I  expected  to  consider  you 
as — as " 

"  I'm  your  general  manager  and  I'm  ready  at  all 
times  to  earn  my  salary.  If  you  think  it  best  to  take 
me  away  from  the  estate  for  a  junketing  trip  and  make 
me  play  cards  you  can  do  it  of  course ;  but  if  you  think 
I'm  here  to  throw  my  money  overboard  I'm  going  back 
to-rnorrow !  " 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Portlaw ;  "  you're  not  going  back. 
There's  nothing  doing  in  winter  up  there  that  requires 
your  personal  attention " 

"  It's  a  bad  winter  for  the  deer — I  ought  to  be  there 


A    LANDING 


"  Well,  can't  Blake  and  O'Connor  attend  to  that?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  they  can.  But  I'm  not  going  to 
waste  the  winter  and  my  salary  in  the  semi-tropics  just 
because  you  want  me  to " 

"  O  Lord !  "  said  Portlaw,  "  what  are  you  kicking 
about?  Have  I  ever " 

"  You  force  me  to  be  plain-spoken ;  you  never  seem 
to  inderstand  that  if  you  insist  on  my  playing  the 
wealthy  do-nothing  that  you've  got  to  keep  me  going. 
And  I  tell  you  frankly,  Billy,  I'm  tired  of  it." 

;<  Oh,  don't  flatten  your  ears  and  show  your  teeth," 
protested  Portlaw  amiably.  "  I  only  supposed  you  had 
enough — with  such  a  salary — to  give  yourself  a  little 
rope  on  a  trip  like  this,  considering  you've  nobody  but 
yourself  to  look  out  for,  and  that  7  do  that  and  pay  you 
heavily  for  the  privilege  " — his  voice  had  become  a  mum 
ble — "  and  all  you  do  is  to  take  vacations  in  New  York 
or  sit  on  a  horse  and  watch  an  army  of  men  plant  trout 
and  pheasants,  and  cut  out  ripe  timber — O  hell! " 

"  What  did  you  say?" 

Portlaw  became  good-humouredly  matter  of  fact :  "  I 
said  '  hell,'  Louis — which  meant,  *  what's  the  use  of 
squabbling.'  It  also  means  that  you  are  going  to  have 
what  you  require  as  a  matter  of  course ;  so  come  on 
down  to  my  state-room  and  let  us  figure  it  up  before 
Jim  Wayward  begins  to  turn  restless  and  limp  toward 
the  card-room." 

As  they  turned  and  strolled  forward,  Malcourt 
nudged  him: 

"  Look  at  the  fireworks  over  Lake  Worth,"  he  said ; 
"  probably  Palm  Beach's  welcome  to  her  new  and  beard 
less  prophet." 

"  It's  one  of  their  cheap  Venetian  fetes,"  muttered 
Portlaw,  "  I  know  'em ;  they're  rather  amusing.  If  we 
3  23 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


weren't  sailing  in  an  hour  we'd  go.  No  doubt  Hamil's 
in  it  already;  probably  Cardross  put  him  next  to  a 
bunch  of  dreams  and  he's  right  in  it  at  this  very  mo 
ment." 

"  With  the  girl  in  the  red  handkerchief,"  added  Mai- 
court.  "  I  wish  we  had  time." 

"  I  believe  I've  seen  that  girl  somewhere,"  mused 
Portlaw. 

"  Perhaps  you  have ;  there  are  all  kinds  at  Palm 
Beach,  even  yours,  and,"  he  added  with  his  easy  impu 
dence,  "  I  expect  to  preserve  my  notions  concerning  every 
one  of  them.  Ho !  Look  at  that  sheaf  of  sky-rockets, 
Billy !  Zip !  Whir-r !  Bang !  Great  is  Diana  of  the 
Ephesians  ! — bless  her  heart !  " 

"  Going  up  like  Garret  Hamil's  illusions,"  said  Port- 
law,  sentimentally.  "  I  wonder  if  he  sees  'em  and  con 
siders  the  moral  they  are  writing  across  the  stars.  O 
slush !  Life  is  like  a  stomach ;  if  you  fill  it  too  full  it 
hurts  you.  What  about  that  epigram,  Louis?  What 
about  it?" 

The  other's  dark,  graceful  head  was  turned  toward 
the  fiery  fete  on  shore,  and  his  busy  thoughts  were  with 
that  lithe,  dripping  figure  he  had  seen  through  the  sea- 
glasses,  climbing  into  a  distant  boat.  For  the  figure  re 
minded  him  of  a  girl  he  had  known  very  well  when  the 
world  was  younger;  and  the  memory  was  not  wholly 
agreeable. 


CHAPTER    III 

AN    ADVANCE 

HAMIL  stood  under  the  cocoanut  palms  at  the  lake's 
edge  and  watched  the  lagoon  where  thousands  of  col 
oured  lanterns  moved  on  crafts,  invisible  except  when 
revealed  in  the  glare  of  the  rushing  rockets. 

Lamps  glittered  everywhere;  electric  lights  were 
doubly  festooned  along  the  sea  wall,  drooping  creeper- 
like  from  palm  to  palmetto,  from  flowering  hibiscus  to 
sprawling  banyan,  from  dainty  china-berry  to  gro 
tesque  screw-pine  tree,  shedding  strange  witch-lights 
over  masses  of  blossoms,  tropical  and  semi-tropical. 
Through  which  the  fine-spun  spray  of  fountains  drifted, 
and  the  great  mousy  dusk-moths  darted  through  the 
bars  of  light  with  the  glimmering  bullet-flight  of  sum 
mer  meteors. 

And  everywhere  hung  the  scent  of  orange  bloom 
and  the  more  subtle  perfume  of  white  and  yellow  jas 
mine  floated  through  the  trees  from  gardens  or  distant 
hammocks,  combining  in  one  intoxicating  aroma,  spiced 
always  with  the  savour  of  the  sea. 

Hamil  was  aware  of  considerable  noise,  more  or  less 
musical,  afloat  and  ashore ;  a  pretentious  orchestra  played 
third-rate  music  under  the  hotel  colonnade;  melody 
arose  from  the  lantern-lit  lake,  with  clamourous  mando 
lins  and  young  voices  singing;  and  over  all  hung  the 
confused  murmur  of  unseen  throngs,  harmonious,  ca- 

25 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


pricious ;  laughter,  voice  answering  voice,  and  the  dis 
tant  shouts  as  brilliantly  festooned  boats  hailed  and 
were  hailed  across  the  water. 

Hamil  passed  on  to  the  left  through  crowded  gardens, 
pressing  his  way  slowly  where  all  around  him  lantern- 
lit  faces  appeared  from  the  dusk  and  vanished  again 
into  it ;  where  the  rustle  of  summer  gowns  sweeping  the 
shaven  lawns  of  Bermuda  grass  sounded  like  a  breeze 
in  the  leaves. 

Sometimes  out  of  the  dusk  all  tremulous  with  tinted 
light  the  rainbow  ray  of  a  jewel  flashed  in  his  eyes — or 
sometimes  he  caught  the  glint  of  eyes  above  the  jewel — 
a  passing  view  of  a  fair  face,  a  moment's  encountering 
glance,  and,  maybe,  a  smile  just  as  the  shadows  falling 
turned  the  garden's  brightness  to  a  mystery  peopled 
with  phantoms. 

Out  along  the  shell  road  he  sauntered,  Whitehall  ris 
ing  from  tropic  gardens  on  his  right,  on  his  left  endless 
gardens  again,  and  white  villas  stretching  away  into  the 
starlight ;  on,  under  the  leaning  coco-palms  along  quays 
and  low  walls  of  coquina  where  the  lagoon  lay  under  the 
silvery  southern  planets. 

After  a  little  he  discovered  that  he  had  left  the  bulk 
of  the  throng  behind,  though  in  front  of  him  and  be 
hind,  the  road  was  still  dstted  with  white-clad  groups 
strolling  or  resting  on  the  sea-wall. 

Far  out  on  the  lake  the  elfin  pageant  continued,  but 
now  he  could  scarcely  hear  the  music ;  the  far  cries  and 
the  hiss  of  the  rockets  came  softly  as  the  whizzing  of 
velvet-winged  moths  around  orange  blossoms. 

The  January  night  was  magnificent;  he  could 
scarcely  comprehend  that  this  languid  world  of  sea  and 
palm,  of  heavy  odour  and  slow  breezes,  was  his  own 
land  still.  Under  the  spell  the  Occident  vanished ;  it  was 

26 


AN  ADVANCE 


the  Orient — all  this  dreamy  mirage,  these  dim  white 
walls,  this  spice-haunted  dusk,  the  water  inlaid  with 
stars,  the  fairy  foliage,  the  dew  drumming  in  the  still 
ness  like  the  sound  of  goblin  tattooing. 

Never  before  had  he  seen  this  enchanted  Southern 
land  which  had  always  been  as  much  a  part  of  his  mother 
land  as  Northern  hill  and  Western  plain — as  much  his 
as  the  roaring  dissonance  of  Broadway,  or  the  icy  silence 
of  the  tundras,  or  the  vast  tranquil  seas  of  corn  rippling 
mile  on  mile  under  the  harvest  moon  of  Illinois. 

He  halted,  unquiet  in  the  strangeness  of  it  all,  rest 
less  under  its  exotic  beauty,  conscious  of  the  languor 
stealing  over  him  —  the  premonition  of  a  physical  re 
laxation  that  he  had  never  before  known — that  he  in 
stinctively  mistrusted. 

People  in  groups  passed  and  repassed  along  the 
lagoon  wall  where,  already  curiously  tired,  he  had  halted 
beside  an  old  bronze  cannon — some  ancient  Spanish  piece, 
if  he  could  judge  by  the  arms  and  arabesques  covering 
the  breech,  dimly  visible  in  the  rays  of  a  Chinese  lantern. 

Beyond  was  a  private  dock  where  two  rakish  power 
boats  lay,  receiving  their  cargo  of  young  men  and  girls — 
all  very  animated  and  gay  under  the  gaudy  electric  lan 
terns  strung  fore  and  aft  rainbow  fashion. 

He  seated  himself  on  the  cannon,  lingering  until  both 
boats  cleared  for  the  carnival,  rushing  out  into  the  dark 
ness  like  streaks  of  multi-coloured  flame;  then  his  lassi 
tude  increasing,  he  rose  and  sauntered  toward  the  hotel 
which  loomed  like  a  white  mountain  afire  above  the  dark 
masses  of  tropic  trees.  And  again  the  press  of  the 
throng  hemmed  him  in.  among  the  palms  and  fountains 
and  hedges  of  crimson  hibiscus ;  again  the  dusk  grew 
gay  with  voices  and  the  singing  overtone  of  violins; 
again  the  suffocating  scent  of  blossoms,  too  sweet  and 

27 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


penetrating  for  the  unacclimated,  filtered  through  and 
through  him,  till  his  breath  came  unevenly,  and  the 
thick  odours  stirred  in  him  strange  senses  of  expectation, 
quickening  with  his  pulses  to  a  sudden  prophecy. 

And  at  the  same  instant  he  saw  the  girl  of  whom 
he  had  been  thinking. 

She  was  on  the  edge  of  a  group  of  half  a  dozen 
or  more  men  in  evening  dress,  and  women  in  filmy 
white  —  already  close  to  him  —  so  near  that  the  frail 
stuff  of  her  skirt  brushed  him,  and  the  subtle,  fresh 
aroma  of  her  seemed  to  touch  lu's  cheek  like  a  breath 
as  she  passed. 

"  Calypso,"  he  whispered,  scarcely  conscious  that 
he  spoke  aloud. 

A  swift  turn  of  her  head,  eyes  that  looked  blankly 
into  his,  and  she  had  passed. 

A  sudden  realisation  of  his  bad  manners  left  his 
ears  tingling.  What  on  earth  had  prompted  him  to 
speak?  What  momentary  relaxation  had  permitted 
him  an  affront  to  a  young  girl  whose  attitude  toward 
him  that  morning  had  been  so  admirable? 

Chagrined,  he  turned  back  to  seek  some  circling 
path  through  the  dense  crowd  ahead;  and  was  aware, 
in  the  darkness,  of  a  shadowy  figure  entering  the 
jasmine  arbour.  And  though  his  eyes  were  still 
confused  by  the  lantern  light  he  knew  her  again  in 
the  dusk. 

As  they  passed  she  said  under  her  breath :  "  That 
was  ill-bred.  I  am  disappointed." 

He  wheeled  in  his  tracks ;  she  turned  to  confront 
him  for  an  instant. 

"I'm  just  a  plain  beast,"  he  said.  "You  won't 
forgive  me  of  course." 

"  You  had  no  right  to  say  what  you  did.  You 
28 


AN   ADVANCE 


said  *  Calypso ' — and  I  ought  not  to  have  heard 
you.  .  .  .  But  I  did.  .  .  .  Tell  me;  if  I  am  too 
generous  to  suspect  you  of  intentional  impertinence, 
you  are  now  too  chastened  to  suspect  that  I  came 
back  to  give  you  this  chance.  That  is  quite  true, 
isn't  it?" 

"  Of  course.  You  are  generous  and — it's  simply 
fine  of  you  to  overlook  it." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  intend  to  overlook  it ; 
I  was  surprised  and  disappointed ;  but  I  did  desire  to 
give  you  another  chance.  And  I  was  so  afraid  you'd 
be  rude  enough  to  take  it  that — I  spoke  first.  That 
was  logical.  Oh,  I  know  what  I'm  doing — and  it's  par 
ticularly  common  of  me — being  who  I  am " 

She  paused,  meeting  his  gaze  deliberately. 

"  You  don't  know  who  I  am.     Do  you?  " 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  deserve  to.  But  I'll  be 
miserable  until  I  do." 

After  a  moment :  "  And  you  are  not  going  to  ask 
me — because,  once,  I  said  that  it  was  nice  of  you 
not  to?" 

The  hint  of  mockery  in  her  voice  edged  his  lips 
with  a  smile,  but  he  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I  won't  ask 
you  that,"  he  said.  "  I've  been  beastly  enough  for 
one  day." 

"  Don't  you  care  to  know?  " 

"  Of  course  I  care  to  know." 

"  Yet,  exercising  all  your  marvellous  masculine 
self-control,  you  nobly  refuse  to  ask?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  to,"  he  said,  laughing ;  "  I'm  horribly 
afraid  of  you." 

She  considered  him  with  clear,  unsmiling  eyes. 

"  Coward !  "  she  said  calmly. 

He  nodded  his  head,  laughing  still.  "  I  know  it ; 
29 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


I  almost  lost  you  by  saying  '  Calypso '  a  moment  ago 
and  I'm  taking  no  more  risks." 

"  Am  I  to  infer  that  you  expect  to  recover  me  after 
this?" 

And,  as  he  made  no  answer :  "  You  dare  not  admit 
that  you  hope  to  see  me  again.  You  are  horribly 
afraid  of  me — even  if  I  have  defied  convention  and  your 
opinions  and  have  graciously  overlooked  your  imperti 
nence.  In  spite  of  all  this  you  are  still  afraid  of  me. 
Are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  as  much  as  I  naturally  ought 
to  be." 

"  That  is  nice  of  you.  There's  only  one  kind 
of  a  girl  of  whom  men  are  really  afraid.  .  .  .  And 
now  I  don't  exactly  know  what  to  do  about  you — 
being,  myself,  as  guilty  and  horrid  as  you  have 
been." 

She  regarded  him  contemplatively,  her  hands  joined 
behind  her  back. 

"  Exactly  what  to  do  about  you  I  don't  know," 
she  repeated,  leisurely  inspecting  him.  "  Shall  I  tell 
you  something?  I  am  not  afraid  to;  I  am  not  a  bit 
cowardly  about  it  either.  Shall  I?  " 

"  If  you  dare,"  he  said,  smiling  and  uncertain. 

"  Very  well,  then ;  I  rather  like  you,  Mr.  Hamil." 

"  You  are  a  trump ! "  he  blurted  out,  reddening 
with  surprise. 

"Are  you  astonished  that  I  know  you?  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  found  out " 

"  Found  out !  What  perfectly  revolting  vanity ! 
Do  you  suppose  that  the  moment  I  left  you  I  rushed 
home  and  began  to  make  happy  and  incoherent  in 
quiries?  Mr.  Hamil,  you  disappoint  me  every  time 
you  speak — and  also  every  time  you  don't." 

30 


AN  ADVANCE 


"  I  seem  to  be  doomed." 

"  You  are.  You  can't  help  it.  Tell  me — as  in 
offensively  as  possible — are  you  here  to  begin  your 
work?" 

"M-my  work?" 

"  Yes,  on  the  Cardross  estate " 

"  You  have  heard  of  that !  "  he  exclaimed,  surprised. 

"  Y-es — M  negligently.  "  Petty  gossip  circulates 
here.  A  cracker  at  West  Palm  Beach  built  a  new 
chicken  coop,  and  we  all  heard  of  it.  Tell  me,  do  you 
still  desire  to  see  me  again?  " 

"  I  do — to  pay  a  revengeful  debt  or  two." 

"  Oh !  I  have  offended  you  ?  Pay  me  now,  if  you 
please,  and  let  us  end  this  indiscretion." 

"  You  will  let  me  see  you  again,  won't  you?  " 

"Why?  Mr.  Hamil." 

"  Because  I — I  must !  " 

"  Oh !  You  are  becoming  emphatic.  So  I  am  go 
ing.  .  .  .  And  I've  half  a  mind  to  take  you  back  and 
present  you  to  my  family.  .  .  .  Only  it  wouldn't  do 
for  me\  any  other  girl  perhaps  might  dare — under  the 
circumstances ;  but  /  can't — and  that's  all  I'll  tell  you." 

Hamil,  standing  straight  and  tall,  straw  hat  tucked 
under  one  arm,  bent  toward  her  with  the  formality  and 
engaging  deference  natural  to  him. 

"  You  have  been  very  merciful  to  me ;  only  a  girl 
of  your  caste  could  afford  to.  Will  you  forgive  my 
speaking  to  you  as  I  did? — when  I  said  '  Calypso! '  I 
have  no  excuse;  I  don't  know  why  I  did.  I'm  even 
sorrier  for  myself  than  for  you." 

"  I  was  hurt.  .  .  .  Then  I  supposed  that  you  did 
not  mean  it.  Besides  " — she  looked  up  with  her  rare 
smile — "  I  knew  you,  Mr.  Hamil,  in  the  boat  this  morn 
ing.  I  haven't  really  been  very  dreadful." 

31 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  You  knew  even  then  F  " 

"  Yes,  I  did.  The  Palm  Beach  News  published  your 
picture  a  week  ago ;  and  I  read  all  about  the  very  re 
markable  landscape  architect  who  was  coming  to  turn 
the  Cardross  jungle  into  a  most  wonderful  Paradise." 

"  You  knew  me  all  that  time?  " 

"  All  of  it,  Mr.  Hamil." 

"  From  the  moment  you  climbed  into  my  boat  ?  " 

"  Practically.  Of  course  I  did  not  look  at  you  very 
closely  at  first.  .  .  .  Does  that  annoy  you?  It  seems 
to  ...  or  something  does,  for  even  in  the  dusk  I  can 
see  your  ever-ready  blush " 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  pretend  to  think  me  such 
a  fool,"  he  protested,  laughing ;  "  you  seemed  to  take 
that  for  granted  from  the  very  first." 

"  Why  not  ?  You  persistently  talked  to  me  when 
you  didn't  know  me — you're  doing  it  now  for  that  mat 
ter! — and  you  began  by  telling  me  that  I  was  fool 
hardy,  not  really  courageous  in  the  decent  sense  of  the 
word,  and  that  I  was  a  self-conscious  stick  and  a  hor 
ribly  inhuman  and  unnatural  object  generally — and  all 
because  I  wouldn't  flirt  with  you " 

His  quick  laughter  interrupted  her.  She  ventured 
to  laugh  a  little  too — a  very  little;  and  that  was  the 
charm  of  her  to  him — the  clear-eyed,  delicate  gravity 
not  lightly  transformed.  But  when  her  laughter  came, 
it  came  as  such  a  surprisingly  lovely  revelation  that  it 
left  him  charmed  and  silent. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  "  if  you  can  be  amusing — 
except  when  you  don't  mean  to  be." 

"  If  you'll  give  me  a  chance  to  try " 

"  Perhaps.     I  was  hardly  fair  to  you  in  that  boat." 

"If  you  knew  me  in  the  boat  this  morning,  why  did 
you  not  say  so  ?  " 


AN  ADVANCE 


"  Could  I  admit  that  I  knew  you  without  first  pre 
tending  I  didn't?  Hasn't  every  woman  a  Heaven-given 
right  to  travel  in  a  circle  as  the  shortest  distance  be 
tween  two  points  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  only " 

She  shook  her  head  slowly.  "  There's  no  use  in  my 
telling  you  who  I  am,  now,  considering  that  I  can't  very 
well  escape  exposure  in  the  near  future.  That  might 
verge  on  effrontery — and  it's  horrid  enough  to  be  here 
with  you — in  spite  of  several  thousand  people  tramp 
ing  about  within  elbow  touch.  .  .  .  Which  reminds  me 
that  my  own  party  is  probably  hunting  for  me.  .  .  . 
Such  a  crowd,  you  know,  and  so  easy  to  become  sepa 
rated.  What  do  you  suppose  they'd  think  if  they  sus 
pected  the  truth?  .  .  .  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  I 
cannot  afford  to  do  a  thing  of  this  sort.  .  .  .  You 
don't  understand;  but  you  may  some  day — partly. 
And  then  perhaps  you'll  think  this  matter  all  over  and 
come  to  a  totally  different  conclusion  concerning  my 
overlooking  your  recent  rudeness  and — and  my  consent 
ing  to  speak  to  you." 

"  You  don't  believe  for  one  moment  that  I  could 
mistake  it " 

"  It  depends  upon  what  sort  of  a  man  you  really 
are.  ...  I  don't  know.  I  give  you  the  benefit  of  all 
doubts." 

She  stood  silent,  looking  him  candidly  in  the  oyes, 
then  with  a  gesture  and  the  slightest  shrug,  she  turned 
away  toward  the  white  road  outside.  He  was  at  her 
elbow  in  two  steps. 

"  Oh,  yes — the  irony  of  formality." 

She  nodded.  "  Good  night,  then,  Mr.  Hamil.  If 
circumstances  permitted  it  would  have  been  delightful 
— this  putting  off  the  cloak  of  convention  and  donning 

33 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


motley  for  a  little  unconventional  misbehaviour  with 
you.  .  .  .  But  as  it  is,  it  worries  me — slightly — as 
much  as  the  episode  and  your  opinion  are  worth." 

"  I  am  wondering,"  he  said,  "  why  this  little  tinc 
ture  of  bitterness  flavours  what  you  say  to  me?  " 

"  Because  I've  misbehaved ;  and  so  have  you.  Any 
way,  now  that  it's  done,  there's  scarcely  anything  I 
could  do  to  make  the  situation  more  flagrant  or  less 
flippant " 

"  You  don't  really  think " 

"  Certainly.  After  all  is  said  and  done,  we  don't 
know  each  other;  here  we  are,  shamelessly  sauntering 
side  by  side  under  the  jasmine,  Paul-and- Virginia-like, 
exchanging  subtleties  blindfolded.  You  are  you;  I 
am  I ;  formally,  millions  of  miles  apart — temporarily 
and  informally  close  together,  paralleling  each  other's 
course  through  life  for  the  span  of  half  an  hour — here 
under  the  Southern  stars.  .  .  .  O  Ulysses,  truly  that 
island  was  inhabited  by  one,  Calypso ;  but  your  thrall  is 
to  be  briefer  than  your  prototype's.  See,  now;  here 
is  the  road;  and  I  release  you  to  that  not  impossible 
she " 

"  There  is  none " 

"  There  will  be.  You  are  very  young.  Good 
bye." 

"  The  confusing  part  of  it  to  me,"  he  said,  smiling, 
"  is  to  see  you  so — so  physically  youthful  with  even  a 
hint  of  almost  childish  immaturity ! — and  then  to  hear 
you  as  you  are — witty,  experienced,  nicely  cynical,  ma 
turely  sure  of  yourself  and " 

44  You  think  me  experienced?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Sure  of  myself?" 

"  Of  course ;  with  your  cool,  amused  poise,  your  ab- 


AN  ADVANCE 


solute  self-possession — and   the   half-disdainful   sword- 
play  of  your  wit — at  my  expense : 

She  halted  beside  the  sea-wall,  adorably  mocking  in 
her  exaggerated  gravity. 

"At  your  expense?"  she  repeated.  "Why  not? 
You  have  cost  me  something." 

"  You  said " 

"  I  know  what  I  said :  I  said  that  we  might  become 
friends.  But  even  so,  you  have  already  cost  me  some 
thing.  Tell  me  " — he  began  to  listen  for  this  little 
trick  of  speech — "  how  many  men  do  you  know  who 
would  not  misunderstand  what  I  have  done  this  even 
ing?  And — do  you  understand  it,  Mr.  Hamil?  " 

«  I  think " 

"  If  you  do  you  are  cleverer  than  I,"  she  said 
almost  listlessly,  moving  on  again  under  the  royal 
palms. 

"  Do  you  mean  that " 

"  Yes ;  that  I  myself  don't  entirely  understand  it. 
Here,  under  this  Southern  sun,  we  of  the  North  are  in 
danger  of  acquiring  a  sort  of  insouciant  directness  al 
most  primitive.  There  comes,  after  a  while,  a  certain 
mental  as  well  as  physical  luxury  in  relaxation  of  rule 
and  precept,  permitting  us  a  simplicity  which  some 
times,  I  think,  becomes  something  less  harmless.  There 
is  luxury  in  letting  go  of  that  live  wire  which  keeps  us 
all  keyed  to  one  conventional  monotone  in  the  North. 
I  let  go — for  a  moment — to-night.  You  let  go  when 
you  said  '  Calypso.'  You  couldn't  have  said  it  in  New 
York;  I  couldn't  have  heard  you,  there.  .  .  .  Alas, 
Ulysses,  I  should  not  have  heard  you  anywhere.  But 
I  did;  and  I  answered.  .  .  .  Say  good  night  to  me, 
now;  won't  you?  We  have  not  been  very  wicked,  I 
think." 

35 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


She  offered  her  hand;  smooth  and  cool  it  lay  for  a 
second  in  his. 

"  I  can't  let  you  return  alone,"  he  ventured. 

"  If  you  please,  how  am  I  to  explain  you  to — the 
others?" 

And  as  he  said  nothing: 

"  If  I  were — different — I'd  simply  tell  them  the 
truth.  I  could  afford  to.  Besides  we'll  all  know  you 
before  very  long.  Then  we'll  see — oh,  yes,  both  of  us — 
whether  we  have  been  foolishly  wise  to  become  com 
panions  in  our  indiscretion,  or — otherwise.  .  .  .  And 
don't  worry  about  my  home-arrival.  That's  my 
lawn — there  where  that  enormous  rubber-banyan  tree 
straddles  across  the  stars.  ...  Is  it  not  quaint — the 
tangle  of  shrubbery  all  over  jasmine? — and  those  are 
royal  poincianas,  if  you  please — and  there's  a  great 
garden  beyond  and  most  delectable  orange  groves  where 
you  and  I  and  the  family  and  Alonzo  will  wander  and 
eat  pine-oranges  and  king-oranges  and  mandarins  and 
• — oh,  well!  Are  you  going  to  call  on  Mr.  Cardross 
to-morrow?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I'll  have  to  see  Mr.  Cardross  at 
once.  And  after  that,  what  am  I  to  do  to  meet  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  consider  the  matter,"  she  said ;  and  bend 
ing  slightly  toward  him :  "  Am  I  to  be  disappointed 
in  you?  I  don't  know,  and  you  can't  tell  me." 
Then,  impulsively :  "  Be  generous  to  me.  You  are 
right;  I  am  not  very  old,  yet.  Be  nice  to  me  in  your 
thoughts.  I  have  never  before  done  such  a  thing  as 
this :  I  never  could  again.  It  is  not  very  dreadful — is 
it  ?  Will  j^ou  think  nicely  of  me  ?  " 

He  said  gaily :  "  Now  you  speak  as  you  look,  not 
like  a  world-worn  woman  of  thirty  wearing  the  soft, 
fresh  mask  of  nineteen." 


AN  ADVANCE 


"  You  have  not  answered  me,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Answered  you,  Calypso  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  ask  you  to  be  very  gentle  and  fastidious 
with  me  in  your  thoughts ;  not  even  to  call  me  Calypso 
— in  your  thoughts." 

"  What  you  ask  I  had  given  you  the  first  moment 
we  met." 

"  Then  you  may  call  me  Calypso — in  your 
thoughts." 

"  Calypso,"  he  pleaded,  "  won't  you  tell  me  where 
to  find  you?  " 

"  Yes ;  in  the  house  of — Mr.  Cardross.  This  is  his 
house." 

She  turned  and  stepped  onto  the  lawn.  A  mass 
of  scarlet  hibiscus  hid  her,  then  she  reappeared,  a 
pale  shape  in  the  dusk  of  the  oleander-bordered  path. 

He  listened ;  the  perfume  of  the  oleanders  enveloped 
him ;  high  under  the  stars  the  fronds  of  a  royal  palm 
hung  motionless.  Then,  through  the  stillness,  very  far 
away,  he  heard  the  southern  ocean  murmuring  in  its 
slumber  under  a  million  stars. 


CHAPTER    IV 

RECONNAISSANCE 

HAMIL  awoke  early:  long  before  breakfast  he  was 
shaved,  dressed,  and  hungry ;  but  in  the  hotel  late  ris 
ing  appeared  to  be  fashionable,  and  through  the  bewil 
dering  maze  of  halls  and  corridors  nobody  was  yet  astir 
except  a  few  children  and  their  maids. 

So  he  sauntered  about  the  acres  of  floor  space  from 
rotunda  to  music  room,  from  desk  to  sun  parlour, 
through  the  endless  carpeted  tunnel  leading  to  the  sta 
tion,  and  back  again,  taking  his  bearings  in  this  wilder 
ness  of  runways  so  profusely  embowered  with  palms 
and  furniture. 

In  one  wide  corridor,  lined  like  a  street  with  shops, 
clerks  were  rearranging  show  windows ;  and  Hamil 
strolled  from  the  jewellers  to  the  brilliant  but  dubious 
display  of  an  Armenian  rug  dealer ;  from  a  New  York 
milliner's  exhibition,  where  one  or  two  blond,  sleepy- 
eyed  young  women  moved  languidly  about,  to  an  exas 
perating  show  of  shells,  curiosities,  and  local  photo 
graphs  which  quenched  further  curiosity. 

However,  beyond  the  shops,  at  the  distant  end  of 
an  Axminster  vista  flanked  by  cabbage-palms  and  mas 
terpieces  from  Grand  Rapids,  he  saw  sunshine  and  the 
green  tops  of  trees ;  and  he  made  toward  the  oasis, 
coming  out  along  a  white  colonnade  overlooking  the 
hotel  gardens. 

38 


RECONNAISSANCE 


It  was  early  enough  for  any  ambitious  bird  to  sing, 
but  there  were  few  song-birds  in  the  gardens  —  a 
palm  warbler  or  two,  and  a  pair  of  subdued  mocking 
birds  not  inclined  to  be  tuneful.  Everywhere,  however, 
purple  and  bronze  grackle  appeared,  flying  or  walk 
ing  busily  over  the  lawns,  sunlight  striking  the  rain 
bow  hackle  on  their  necks,  and  their  pale-yellow  or 
bright-orange  eyes  staring  boldly  at  the  gardeners 
who  dawdled  about  the  flowery  labyrinths  with  wa 
tering-can  and  jointed  hose.  And  from  every  shrub 
and  tree  came  the  mildly  unpleasant  calling  of  the 
grackle,  and  the  blackbirds  along  the  lagoon  an 
swered  with  their  own  unmusical  "  Co-ca.-chee ! — Co 
ca- chee-e  !  " 

Somehow,  to  Hamil,  the  sunshine  seemed  to  reveal 
more  petty  defects  in  this  semi-tropical  landscape  than 
he  could  have  divined  the  night  before  under  the  un 
blemished  magic  of  the  stars.  For  the  grass  was  not 
real  grass,  but  only  that  sparse,  bunchy,  sun-crisped 
substitute  from  Bermuda ;  here  and  there  wind-battered 
palmetto  fronds  hung  burnt  and  bronzed ;  and  the  vast 
hotel,  which  through  the  darkness  he  had  seen  piled  up 
above  the  trees  in  cliff-like  beauty  against  the  stars, 
was  actually  remarkable  only  for  its  size  and  lack  of 
architectural  interest. 

He  betran  to  wonder  whether  the  inhabitants  of  its 

<i  O 

thousand  rooms,  aware  of  the  pitiless  clarity  of  this 
semi-tropical  morning  sunlight,  shunned  it  lest  it  reveal 
unsuspected  defects  in  those  pretty  lantern-lit  faces  of 
which  he  had  had  glimpses  in  the  gardens'  enchanted 
dusk  the  night  before.  However,  the  sunshine  seemed 
to  render  the  little  children  only  the  lovelier,  and  he  sat 
on  the  railing,  his  back  against  a  pillar,  watching  them 
racing  about  with  their  nurses,  until  the  breakfast  hour 
4  39 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


at  last  came  around  and  found  him  at  table,  no  longer 
hungry. 

A  stream  of  old  ladies  and  gentlemen  continued  tod 
dling  into  the  breakfast  rooms  where  an  acre  or  two 
of  tables,  like  a  profuse  crop  of  mushrooms,  disturbed 
the  monotony  of  the  hotel  interior  with  a  monotony 
still  more  pronounced.  However,  there  was  hazy  sun 
shine  in  the  place  and  a  glimpse  of  blessed  green 
outside,  and  the  leisurely  negroes  brought  him  fruit 
which  was  almost  as  good  as  the  New  York  win 
ter  markets  afforded,  and  his  breakfast  amused  him 
mildly. 

The  people,  too,  amused  him — so  many  dozens  of 
old  ladies  and  gentlemen,  all  so  remarkably  alike  in  a 
common  absence  of  distinguishing  traits — a  sort  of 
homogeneous,  expressionless  similarity  which  was  rather 
amazing  as  they  doubtless  had  gathered  there  from  all 
sections  of  the  Republic. 

But  the  children  were  delightful,  and  all  over  the 
vast  room  he  could  distinguish  their  fresh  little  faces 
like  tufts  of  flowers  set  in  a  waste  of  dusty  stubble,  and 
amid  the  culinary  clatter  their  clear,  gay  little  voices 
broke  through  cheerfully  at  moments,  grateful  as  the 
morning  chatter  of  sparrows  in  early  spring. 

When  Hamil  left  his  table  he  halted  to  ask  an  im 
posing  head-waiter  whether  Miss  Palliser  might  be  ex 
pected  to  breakfast,  and  was  informed  that  she  break 
fasted  and  lunched  in  her  rooms  and  dined  always  in 
the  cafe. 

So  he  stopped  at  the  desk  and  sent  up  his  card. 

A  number  of  young  people  evidently  equipped  for 
the  golf  links  now  pervaded  hall  and  corridor;  others, 
elaborately  veiled  for  motoring,  stopped  at  the  desk  for 
letters  on  their  way  into  the  outer  sunshine. 

40 


RECONNAISSANCE 


A  row  of  rather  silent  but  important-looking  gen 
tlemen,  morning  cigars  afire,  gradually  formed  ranks 
in  arm-chairs  under  the  colonnade;  people  passing  and 
repassing  began  to  greet  each  other  with  more  vivacity ; 
veranda  and  foyer  became  almost  animated  as  the  crowd 
increased.  And  now  a  demure  bride  or  two  emerged  in 
all  the  radiance  of  perfect  love  and  raiment,  squired  by 
him,  braving  the  searching  sunshine  with  confidence  in 
her  beauty,  her  plumage,  and  a  kindly  planet ;  and, 
in  pitiful  contrast,  here  and  there  some  waxen-faced 
invalid,  wheeled  by  a  trained  nurse,  in  cap  and  cuffs, 
through  sunless  halls  into  the  clear  sea  air,  to  lie  mo 
tionless,  with  leaden  lids  scarcely  parted,  in  the  glory 
of  a  perfect  day. 

A  gentleman,  rotund  of  abdomen,  wearing  a  stubby 
red  moustache,  screwed  a  cigar  firmly  into  the  off  corner 
of  his  mouth  and,  after  looking  aggressively  at  Hamil 
for  fully  half  a  minute,  said : 

"  Southern  Pacific  sold  off  at  the  close." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Hamil. 

"  It's  like  picking  daisies,"  said  the  gentleman  im 
pressively.  And,  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  con 
tinued  to  survey  the  younger  man:  "  What  name?  "  he 
inquired,  as  though  Hamil  had  been  persistently  at 
tempting  to  inform  him. 

Hamil  told  him  good-naturedly. 

"  Pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Hamil.  My  name  is 
Rawley — probably  the  name  is  familiar  to  you? — Am 
brose  Rawley  " — he  coughed — "  by  profession  a  bota 
nist." 

Hamil  smiled,  recognising  in  the  name  the  most  out 
rageously  expensive  of  New  York  florists  who  had  made 
a  fortune  in  cut  flowers. 

"Have  a  drink?"  persisted  Mr.  Rawley.  "No? 
41 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Too  early  for  you?  Well,  let's  get  a  couple  of  niggers 
and  wheel-chairs." 

But  Hamil  declined  with  the  easy  good-humour 
which  characterised  him;  and  a  few  moments  later, 
learning  at  the  office  that  his  aunt  would  receive  him, 
followed  his  negro  guide  through  endless  carpeted  laby 
rinths  and  was  ushered  by  a  maid  into  a  sunny  recep 
tion-room. 

"  Garry  ! — you  dear  bo}' !  "  exclaimed  his  amazingly 
youthful  aunt,  holding  out  both  arms  to  him  from  the 
door  of  her  bedroom,  partly  ajar.  "  No — don't  come 
near  me ;  I'm  not  even  in  complete  negligee  yet,  but  I  will 
be  in  one  minute  when  Titine  fastens  me  up  and  makes 
the  most  of  my  scanty  locks — "  She  looked  out  at  him 
with  a  laugh  and  gave  her  head  a  little  jerk  forward, 
and  her  splendid  chestnut  hair  came  tumbling  down  in 
the  sunshine. 

"  You're  prettier  than  ever,"  said  her  nephew ; 
"  they'll  take  us  for  bride  and  groom  as  usual.  I  say, 
Constance,  I  suppose  they've  followed  you  down  here." 

"  Who,  Garry," — very  innocently. 

"  The  faithful  three,  Colonel  Vetchen,  Cuyp,  and  old 
• — I  mean  the  gracefully  mature  Courtlandt  Classon. 
Are  they  here?" 

"  I  believe  so,  dear,"  admitted  his  aunt  demurely. 
"  And,  Garry,  so  is  Virginia  Suydam." 

"  Really,"  he  said,  suddenly  subdued  as  his  aunt  who 
was  forty  and  looked  twenty-five  came  forward  in  her 
pretty  chamber-gown,  and  placed  two  firm  white  arms 
around  him  and  kissed  him  squarely  and  with  vigour. 

"  You  dear !  "  she  said ;  "  you  certainly  are  the  best- 
looking  boy  in  all  Florida.  When  did  you  come?  Is 
Jim  Way  ward's  yacht  here  still?  And  why  didn't  h^ 
come  to  see  me  ?  " 


RECONNAISSANCE 


"  The  Ariani  sailed  for  Miami  last  night  after  I 
landed.  I  left  my  card,  but  the  office  people  rang  and 
rang  and  could  get  no  answer " 

"  I  was  in  bed !  How  stupid  of  me !  I  retired  early 
because  Virginia  and  I  had  been  dissipating  shamefully 
all  the  week  and  my  aged  bones  required  a  rest.  .  .  . 
And  now  tell  me  all  about  this  new  commission  of  yours. 
I  have  met  the  Cardross  family;  everybody  at  Palm 
Beach  is  talking  about  the  magnificent  park  Mr.  Car- 
dross  is  planning;  and  your  picture  has  appeared  in 
the  local  paper,  and  I've  told  everybody  you're  quite 
wonderful,  and  everybody  now  is  informing  everybody 
else  that  you're  quite  wonderful !  " 

His  very  gay  aunt  lay  back  in  her  great  soft  chair, 
pushing  with  both  fair  hands  the  masses  of  chestnut 
hair  from  her  forehead,  and  smiling  at  him  out  of  her 
golden  brown  eyes — the  j  oiliest,  frankest  of  eyes — the 
sort  even  women  trust  instinctively  at  first  glimpse. 

So  he  sat  there  and  told  her  all  about  his  commis 
sion  and  how  this  man,  Neville  Cardross,  whom  he  had 
never  even  seen,  had  written  to  him  and  asked  him  to 
make  the  most  splendid  park  in  America  around  the  Car- 
dross  villa,  and  had  invited  him  to  be  his  guest  during 
his  stay  in  Florida. 

"  They  evidently  are  nice  people  from  the  way  Mr. 
Cardross  writes,"  he  said.  "  You  say  you  know  them, 
Constance?  " 

"  I've  met  them  several  times — the  way  you  meet 
people  here.  They  have  a  villa — rather  imposing  in  an 
exotic  fashion.  Why,  yes,  Garry,  they  are  nice ;  dread 
fully  wealthy,  tremendously  popular  Mrs.  Car  rick,  the 
married  daughter,  is  very  agreeable;  her  mother  is 
amiable  and  dreadfully  stout.  Then  there's  a  boy  of 
your  age — Gray  Cardross — a  well-mannered  youth  who 

43 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


drives  motors,  and  whom  Mr.  Classon  calls  a  '  speed-mad 
cub.'  Then  there  is  Cecile  Cardross — a  debutante  of 
last  winter,  and  then — "  Miss  Palliser  hesitated,  crossed 
one  knee  over  the  other,  and  sat  gently  swinging  her 
slippered  foot  and  looking  at  her  nephew. 

"  Does  that  conclude  the  list  of  the  Cardross  fam 
ily  ?"  he  asked. 

"  N-no.  There  remains  the  beauty  of  the  family, 
Shiela."  She  continued  to  survey  him  with  smiling  in- 
tentness,  and  went  on  slowly: 

"  Shiela  Cardross ;  the  girl  here.  People  are  quite 
mad  about  her,  I  assure  you.  My  dear,  every  man  at 
Palm  Beach  tags  after  her;  rows  of  callow  youths  sit 
and  gaze  at  her  very  footprints  in  the  sand  when  she 
crosses  the  beach ;  she  turns  masculine  heads  to  the  verge 
of  permanent  dislocation.  No  guilty  man  escapes ;  even 
Courtlandt  Classon  is  meditating  treachery  to  me,  and 
Mr.  Cuyp  has  long  been  wavering  and  Gussie  Vetchen 
too!  the  wretch!  .  .  .  We  poor  women  try  hard  to  like 
her — but,  Garry,  is  it  human  to  love  such  a  girl?  " 

"  It's  divine,  Constance,  so  you'll  like  her." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  thank  you.  Well,  I  do ;  I  don't  know  her 
well,  but  I'm  inclined  to  like  her — in  a  way.  .  .  . 
There's  something  else,  though."  She  considered  her 
handsome  nephew  steadily.  "  You  are  to  be  a  guest 
there  while  this  work  of  yours  is  in  hand?  " 

«  Yes— I  believe  so." 

"  Then,  dear,  without  the  slightest  unworthy  impulse 
or  the  faintest  trace  of  malice,  I  wish  to  put  you  on  your 
guard.  It's  horrid,  but  I  must." 

"  On  my  guard !  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes — forearm  you,  Garry.  Shiela  Cardross  is  a 
rather  bewildering  beauty.  She  is  French  convent-bred, 
clever  and  cultivated  and  extremely  talented.  Besides 

44 


RECONNAISSANCE 


that  she  has  every  fashionable  grace  and  accomplish 
ment  at  the  ends  of  her  pretty  fingers — and  she  has  a 
way  with  her — a  way  of  looking  at  you — which  is  pure 
murder  to  the  average  man.  And  beside  that  she  is 
very  simple  and  sweet  to  everybody.  As  an  assassin  of 
hearts  she's  equipped  to  slay  yours,  Garry." 

"  Well?  "  he  inquired,  laughing.  And  added:  "  Let 
her  slay.  Why  not?" 

"  This,  dear.  And  you  who  know  me  will  acquit  me 
of  any  ignoble  motive  if  I  say  that  she  is  not  your  social 
equal,  Garry." 

"  What !    I  thought  you  said " 

"  Yes — about  the  others.  But  it  is  not  the  same 
with  Shiela  Cardross.  I — it  sesms  cruel  to  say  it — but 
it  is  for  your  sake — to  effectually  forestall  any  possible 
accident — that  I  am  going  to  tell  you  that  this  very 
lovely  girl,  Shiela,  is  an  adopted  child,  not  a  daughter, 
That  exceedingly  horrid  old  gossip,  Mrs.  Van  Dieman, 
told  me  that  the  girl  was  a  foundling  taken  by  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Cardross  from  the  Staten  Island  asylum.  And  I'm 
afraid  Mrs.  Van  Dieman  knows  what  she's  talking  about 
because  she  founded  and  still  supports  the  asylum." 

Hamil  looked  gravely  across  at  his  aunt.  "  The  poor 
little  girl,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Lord,  but  that's  tough ! 
and  tougher  still  to  have  Mrs.  Van  Dieman  taking 
the  trouble  to  spread  the  news.  Can't  you  shut  her 
up?" 

"  It  is  tough,  Garret.  I  suppose  they  all  are  dread 
fully  sensitive  about  it.  I  begged  Mrs.  Van  Dieman  to 
keep  her  own  counsel.  But  she  won't.  And  you  know, 
dear,  that  it  would  make  no  difference  to  me  in  my  re 
lations  with  the  girl — except  that  " — she  hesitated, 
smiling — "  she  is  not  good  enough  for  you,  Garry,  and 
so,  if  you  catch  the  prevailing  contagion,  and  fall  a 

45 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


victim,  you  have  been  inoculated  now  and  will  have 
the  malady  lightly." 

"  My  frivolous  and  fascinating  aunt,"  he  said,  "  have 
you  ever  known  me  to  catch  any  prevailing " 

"  O  Garret !  You  know  you  have ! — dozens  of 
times " 

"  I've  been  civilly  attentive  to  several  girls " 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  you'd  marry  Virginia  Suydam ; 
but  you  won't." 

"  Virginia !  "  he  repeated,  astonished. 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  I  wish  you  were  safely  and  suitably 
married.  I'm  worried,  Garry;  you  are  becoming  too 
good-looking  not  to  get  into  some  horrid  complication — 
as  poor  Jim  Wayward  did;  and  now  he's  done  for,  fin 
ished!  Oh,  I  wish  I  didn't  feel  so  responsible  for  you. 
And  I  wish  you  weren't  going  to  the  Cardrosses'  to  live 
for  months !  " 

He  leaned  forward,  laughing,  and  took  his  aunt's 
slim  hands  between  his  own  sunburned  fists.  "  You  cun 
ning  little  thing,"  he  said,  "  if  you  talk  that  way  I'll 
marry  you  off  to  one  of  the  faithful  three ;  you  and  Vir 
ginia  too.  Lord,  do  you  think  I'm  down  here  to  cut 
capers  when  I've  enough  hard  work  ahead  to  drive  a 
dozen  men  crazy  for  a  year?  As  for  your  beautiful 
Miss  Cardross — why  I  saw  a  girl  in  a  boat — not  long 
ago — who  really  was  a  beauty.  I  mean  to  find  her,  some 
day ;  and  that  is  something  for  you  to  worry  about !  " 

"Garry!     Tell  me!" 

But  he  rose,  still  laughing,  and  saluted  Miss  Pal- 
liser's  hands. 

"  If  you  and  Virginia  have  nothing  better  on  I'll 
dine  with  you  at  eight.  Yes?  No?  " 

"  Of  course.     Where  are  yon  going  now?  " 

"  To  report  to  Mr.  Cardross — and  brave  beauty  in 
46 


RECONNAISSANCE 


its  bower,"  he  added  mischievously.  "  I'll  doubtless  be 
bowled  over  first  shot  and  come  around  for  a  dinner  and 
a  blessing  at  eight  this  evening." 

"  Don't  joke  about  it,"  she  said  as  they  rose  to 
gether  and  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  window  looking 
down  into  the  flowering  gardens. 

"  Is  it  not  a  jolly  scene?  "  she  added — "  the  fountain 
against  the  green,  and  the  flowers  and  the  sunshine 
everywhere,  and  all  those  light  summer  gowns  outdoors 
in  January,  and — "  She  checked  herself  and  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm ;  "  Garry,  do  you  see  that  girl  in  the 
wheel-chair! — the  one  just  turning  into  the  gardens!" 

He  had  already  seen  her.  Suddenly  his  heart  stood 
still  in  dread  of  what  his  aunt  was  about  to  say.  He 
knew  already  somehow  that  she  was  going  to  say  it, 
yet  when  she  spoke  the  tiny  shock  came  just  the  same. 

"  That,"  said  his  aunt,  "  is  Shiela  Cardross.  Is  she 
not  too  lovely  for  words  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  she  is  very  beautiful." 

For  a  while  they  stood  together  there  at  the  window, 
then  he  said  good-bye  in  a  rather  subdued  manner  which 
made  his  aunt  laugh  that  jolly,  clear  laugh  which  never 
appealed  to  him  in  vain. 

"  You're  not  mortally  stricken  already  at  your  first 
view  of  her,  are  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  mortally,"  he  said. 

"  Then  fall  a  victim  and  recover  quickly.  And  don't 
let  me  sit  here  too  long  without  seeing  you ;  will  you  ?  " 

She  went  to  the  door  with  him,  one  arm  linked  in 
his,  brown  eyes  bright  with  her  pride  and  confidence  in 
him — in  this  tall,  wholesome,  clean-built  boy,  already  on 
the  verge  of  distinction  in  his  rather  unusual  profes 
sion.  And  she  saw  in  him  all  the  strength  and  engag 
ing  good  looks  of  his  dead  father,  and  all  the  clear  and 

47 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


lovable  sincerity  of  his  mother — her  only  sister — now 
also  dead. 

"  You  will  come  to  see  me  sometimes — won't  you, 
Garry  ?  "  she  repeated  wistfully. 

"  Of  course  I  will.  Give  my  love  to  Virginia  and 
my  amused  regards  to  the  faithful  three."  j 

And  so  they  parted,  he  to  saunter  down  into  the 
cool  gardens  on  his  way  to  call  on  Mr.  Cardross ;  she 
to  pace  the  floor,  excited  by  his  arrival,  her  heart  beat 
ing  with  happiness,  pride,  solicitude  for  the  young 
fellow  who  was  like  brother  and  son  to  her — this  hand 
some,  affectionate,  generous  boy  who  had  steadily  from 
the  very  first  declined  to  accept  one  penny  of  her  com 
fortable  little  fortune  lest  she  be  deprived  of  the  least 
luxury  or  convenience,  and  who  had  doggedly  educated 
and  prepared  himself,  and  contrived  to  live  within  the 
scanty  means  he  had  inherited. 

And  now  at  last  the  boy  saw  success  ahead,  and 
Miss  Palliser  was  happy,  dreaming  brilliant  dreams  for 
him,  conjuring  vague  splendours  for  the  future — suc 
cess  unbounded,  honours,  the  esteem  of  all  good  men; 
this,  for  her  boy.  And — if  it  must  be — love,  in  its 
season — with  the  inevitable  separation  and  a  slow  dis 
solution  of  an  intimacy  which  had  held  for  her  all  she 
desired  in  life — his  companionship,  his  happiness,  his 
fortune;  this  also  she  dreamed  for  his  sake.  Yes — 
knowing  she  could  not  always  keep  him,  and  that  it 
must  come  inexorably,  she  dreamed  of  love  for  him — and 
marriage. 

And,  as  she  stood  now  by  the  sunny  window,  idly 
intent  on  her  vision,  without  warning  the  face  of 
Shiela  Cardross  gJimmered  through  the  dream,  grow 
ing  clearer,  distinct  in  every  curve  and  tint  of  its  ex 
quisite  perfection;  and  she  stared  at  the  mental  vision, 

48 


'*  ** 


RECONNAISSANCE 


evoking  it  with  all  the  imagination  of  her  inner  con 
sciousness,  unquiet  yet  curious,  striving  to  look  into 
the  phantom's  eyes — clear,  direct  eyes  which  she  remem 
bered;  and  a  thrill  of  foreboding  touched  her,  lest  the 
boy  she  loved  might  find  in  the  sweetness  of  these  clear 
eye3  a  peril  not  lightly  overcome. 

"  She  is  so  unusually  beautiful,"  said  Miss  Palliser 
aloud,  unconscious  that  she  had  spoken.  And  she  added, 
wondering,  "  God  knows  what  blood  is  in  her  veins  to 
form  a  body  so  divine." 


CHAPTER    V 

A    F]LANK    MOVEMENT 

YOUNG  Hamil,  moving  thoughtfully  along  through 
the  gardens,  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  group  under  the 
palms  which  halted  him  for  an  instant,  then  brought 
him  forward,  hat  off,  hand  cordially  outstretched. 

"  Awf 'lly  glad  to  see  you,  Virginia ;  this  is  very 
jolly ;  hello,  Cuyp !  How  are  you,  Colonel  Vetchen — 
oh !  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Classon !  "  as  the  latter  came 
trotting  down  the  path,  twirling  a  limber  walking- 
stick. 

"  How-dee-do !  How-dee-do !  "  piped  Courtlandt 
Classon,  with  a  rickety  abandon  almost  paternal;  and, 
replying  literally,  Hamil  admitted  his  excellent  physi 
cal  condition. 

Virginia  Suydam,  reclining  in  her  basket  chair, 
very  picturesque  in  a  broad  hat,  smiled  at  him  out  of 
her  peculiar  bluish-green  eyes,  while  Courtlandt  Clas 
son  fussed  and  fussed  and  patted  his  shoulder ;  an  old 
beau  who  had  toddled  about  Manhattan  in  the  days  when 
the  town  was  gay  below  Bleecker  Street,  when  brown- 
stone  was  for  the  rich  alone,  when  the  family  horses 
wore  their  tails  long  and  a  proud  Ethiope  held  the  reins, 
when  Saratoga  was  the  goal  of  fashion,  and  old  Gen 
eral  Jan  Van-der-Duynck  pronounced  Ms  own  name 
"  Wonnerdink,"  with  profane  accompaniment. 

They  were  all  most  affable — Van  Tassel  Cuyp  with 
50 


A    FLANK   MOVEMENT 


the  automatic  nervous  snicker  that  deepened  the  fur 
rows  from  nostril  to  mouth,  a  tall  stoop-shouldered  man 
of  scant  forty  with  the  high  colour,  long,  nervous  nose, 
and  dull  eye  of  Dutch  descent;  and  Colonel  Augustus 
Magnelius  Pietrus  Vetchen,  scion  of  an  illustrious  line 
whose  ancestors  had  been  colonial  governors  and  judges 
before  the  British  flag  floated  from  the  New  Amsterdam 
fort.  His  daughter  was  the  celebrated  beauty,  Mrs. 
Tom  O'Hara.  She  had  married  O'Hara  and  so  many 
incredible  millions  that  people  insisted  that  was  why 
Colonel  Vetchen's  eyebrows  expressed  the  acute  slant  of 
perpetual  astonishment. 

So  they  were  all  cordial,  for  was  he  not  related  to 
the  late  General  Garret  Suydam  and,  therefore,  dis 
tantly  to  them  all?  And  these  men  who  took  themselves 
and  their  lineage  so  seriously,  took  Hamil  seriously ;  and 
he  often  attempted  to  appreciate  it  seriously,  but  his 
sense  of  humour  was  too  strong.  They  were  all  good 
people,  kindly  and  harmless  snobs ;  and  when  he  had 
made  his  adieux  under  the  shadow  of  the  white  portico, 
he  lingered  a  moment  to  observe  the  obsolete  gallantry 
with  which  Mr.  Classon  and  Colonel  Vetchen  wafted  Vir 
ginia  up  the  steps. 

Cuyp  lingered  to  venture  a  heavy  pleasantry  or  two 
which  distorted  his  long  nose  into  a  series  of  white- 
ridged  wrinkles,  then  he  ambled  away  and  disappeared 
within  the  abode  of  that  divinity  who  shapes  our  ends, 
the  manicure ;  and  Hainil  turned  once  more  toward  the 
gardens. 

The  hour  was  still  early ;  of  course  too  unconven 
tional  to  leave  cards  on  the  Car  dross  family,  even  too 
early  for  a  business  visit ;  but  he  thought  he  would  stroll 
past  the  villa,  the  white  walls  of  which  he  had  dimly 
seen  the  evening  before.  Besides  his  Calypso  was  there. 

51 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Alas !  for  Calypso.     Yet  his  heart  tuned  up  a  trifle  as 
he  thought  of  seeing  her  so  soon  again. 

And  so,  a  somewhat  pensive  but  wholly  attractive 
and  self-confident  young  opportunist  in  white  flannels,  he 
sauntered  through  the  hotel  gardens  and  out  along  the 
dazzling  shell-road. 

No  need  for  him  to  make  inquiries  of  passing  ne 
groes  ;  no  need  to  ask  where  the  House  of  Cardross  might 
be  found;  for  although  he  had  seen  it  only  by  star 
light,  and  the  white  sunshine  now  transformed  every 
thing  under  its  unfamiliar  glare,  he  remembered  his 
way,  etape  by  etape,  from  the  foliated  iron  grille  of 
Whitehall  to  the  ancient  cannon  bedded  in  rusting  trun 
nions  ;  and  from  that  mass  of  Spanish  bronze,  southward 
under  the  tall  palms,  past  hedges  of  vermilion  hibiscus 
and  perfumed  oleander,  past  villa  after  villa  embowered 
in  purple,  white,  and  crimson  flowering  vines,  and  far 
away  inland  along  the  snowy  road  until,  at  the  turn, 
a  gigantic  banyan  tree  sprawled  across  the  sky  and 
the  lilac-odour  of  china-berry  in  bloom  stole  subtly 
through  the  aromatic  confusion,  pure,  sweet,  refreshing 
in  all  its  exquisite  integrity. 

"  Calypso's  own  fragrance,"  he  thought  to  himself — 
remembering  the  intimate  perfume  of  her  hair  and  gown 
as  she  passed  so  near  to  him  in  the  lantern  light  when 
he  had  spoken  without  discretion. 

And  suddenly  the  reminiscent  humour  faded  from  his 
eyes  and  mouth  as  he  remembered  what  his  aunt  had 
said  of  this  young  girl;  and,  halting  in  his  tracks,  he 
recalled  what  she  herself  had  said;  that  the  harmless 
liberties  another  girl  might  venture  to  take  with  in 
formality,  armoured  in  an  assurance  above  common  con 
vention,  she  could  not  venture.  And  now  he  knew  why. 
.  .  .  She  had  expected  him  to  learn  that  she  was  an 

52 


A    FLANK   MOVEMENT 


adopted  daughter;  in  the  light  of  his  new  knowledge 
he  understood  that.  No  doubt  it  was  generally  known. 
But  the  child  had  not  expected  him  to  know  more  than 
that;  and,  her  own  knowledge  of  the  hopeless  truth, 
plainly  enough,  was  the  key  to  that  note  of  bitterness 
which  he  had  detected  at  times,  and  even  spoken  of — 
that  curious  maturity  forced  by  unhappy  self-knowl 
edge,  that  apathetic  indifference  stirred  at  moments 
to  a  quick  sensitive  alertness  almost  resembling  self- 
defence.  She  was  aware  of  her  own  story ;  that  was 
certain.  And  the  acid  of  that  knowledge  was  etching 
the  designs  of  character  upon  a  physical  adolescence  un 
prepared  for  such  biting  reaction. 

He  was  sorry  he  knew  it,  feeling  ashamed  of  his  own 
guiltless  invasion  of  the  girl's  privacy. 

The  only  reparation  possible  was  to  forget  it.  Like 
an  honourable  card-player  who  inadvertently  sees  his  op 
ponent's  cards,  he  must  play  his  hand  exactly  as  he 
would  have  in  the  beginning.  And  that,  he  believed, 
would  be  perfectly  simple. 

Reassured  he  looked  across  the  lawns  toward  the 
Cardross  villa,  a  big  house  of  coquina  cement,  very 
beautiful  in  its  pseudo-Spanish  architecture,  red-tiled 
roofs,  cool  patias,  arcades,  and  courts ;  the  formality  of 
terrace,  wall,  and  fountain  charmingly  disguised  under 
a  riot  of  bloom  and  fbliage. 

The  house  stood  farther  away  than  he  had  imagined,   • 
for  here  the  public  road  ended  abruptly  in  a  winding 
hammock-trail,  and  ^o  the  east  the  private  drive  of  marl 
ran  between  high  gates  of  wrought  iron  swung  wide 
between  carved  coquina  pillars. 

Ana  the  house  itseif  was  very  much  larger  than  he 
had  imagined ;  the  starlight  had  illuminated  only  a  small 
portion  of  its  white  faf-ade,  tricking  him;  lor  this  was 

53 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


almost  a  palace — one  of  those  fine  vigorously  designed 
mansions,  so  imposing  in  simplicity,  nicknamed  by  smug 
humility — a  "  cottage,"  or  "  villa." 

"  By  jingo,  it's  noble !  "  he  exclaimed,  the  exotic  dig 
nity  of  the  house  dawning  on  him  by  degrees  as  he 
moved  forward  and  the  southern  ocean  sprang  into 
view,  turquoise  and  amethyst  inlaid  streak  on  streak  to 
the  still  horizon. 

"  What  a  chance !  "  he  repeated  under  his  breath ; 
"  what  a  chance  for  the  noblest  park  ever  softened  into 
formality  !  And  the  untouched  forests  beyond ! — and  the 
lagoons ! — and  the  dunes  to  the  east — and  the  sea ! 
Lord,  Lord,"  he  whispered  with  unconscious  reverence, 
"  what  an  Eden !  " 

One  of  the  white-haired,  black-skinned  children  of 
men — though  the  point  is  locally  disputed — looked  up 
from  the  grass  where  he  squatted  gathering  ripe  fruit 
under  a  sapodilla  tree;  and  to  an  inquiry: 

"  Yaas-suh,  yaas-suh ;  Mistuh  Cahdhoss  in  de  po 
melo  g'ove,  suh,  feedin'  mud-cat  to  de  wile-puss." 

"Doing  what?" 

"  Feedin'  mud-fish  to  de  wile-cat,  de  wile  lynx-cat, 
suh."  The  aged  negro  rose,  hat  doffed,  juicy  traces 
of  forbidden  sapodillas  on  his  face  which  he  naively  re 
moved  with  the  back  of  the  blackest  and  most  grotesquely 
wrinkled  hand  Hamil  had  ever  seen. 

"  Yaas-suh ;  'scusin'  de  'gator,  wile-cat  love  de  mud 
fish  mostest ;  yaas,  suh.  Ole  torm-cat  he  fish  do  crick 
lak  he  was  no  'count  Seminole  trash -" 

"  One  moment,  uncle,"  interrupted  Hamil,  smilinsr : 
"  is  that  the  pomelo  grove  ?  And  is  that  gentleman 
yonder  Mr.  Cardross  ?  " 

"  Yaas-suh." 

He  stood  silent  a  momer  +  thoughtfully  watching  the 
54 


A    FLANK  MOVEMENT 


distant  figure  through  the  vista  of  green  leaves,  white 
blossoms,  and  great  clusters  of  fruit  hanging  like  globes 
of  palest  gold  in  the  sun. 

"  I  think,"  he  said  absently,  "  that  I'll  step  over  and 
speak  to  Mr.  Cardross.  .  .  .  Thank  you,  uncle.  .  .  . 
What  kind  of  fruit  is  that  you're  gathering?  " 

"  Sappydilla,  suh." 

Hamil  laughed;  he  had  heard  that  a  darky  would 
barter  'possum,  ham-bone,  and  soul  immortal  for  a  ripe 
sapodilla;  he  had  also  once,  much  farther  northward, 
seen  the  distressing  spectacle  of  Savannah  negroes  load 
ing  a  freight  car  with  watermelons;  and  it  struck  him 
now  that  it  was  equally  rash  to  commission  this  aged 
uncle  on  any  such  business  as  the  gathering  of  sapodillas 
for  family  consumption. 

The  rolling,  moist,  and  guileless  eye  of  the  old  man 
whose  slightly  pained  expression  made  it  plain  that  he 
divined  exactly  what  Hamil  had  been  thinking,  set  the 
young  man  laughing  outright. 

"  Don't  worry,  uncle,"  he  said ;  "  they're  not  my 
sapodillas  " ;  and  he  walked  toward  the  pomelo  grove, 
the  old  man,  a  picture  of  outraged  innocence,  looking 
after  him,  thoughtlessly  biting  into  an  enormous  and 
juicy  specimen  of  the  forbidden  fruit  as  he  looked. 

There  was  a  high  fence  of  woven  wire  around  the 
grove;  through  scented  vistas,  spotted  with  sunshine, 
fruit  and  blossoms  hung  together  amid  tender  foliage 
of  glossy  green ;  palms  and  palmettos  stood  with  broad 
drooping  fronds  here  and  there  among  the  citrus  trees, 
and  the  brown  woody  litter  which  covered  the  ground 
was  all  starred  with  fallen  flowers. 

The  gate  was  open,  and  as  Hamil  stepped  in  he 
met  a  well-built,  active  man  in  white  flannels  coming 
out;  and  both  halted  abruptly. 
5  55 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  I  am  looking  for  Mr.  Cardross,"  said  the  younger 
man. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Cardross." 

Hamil  nodded.  "  I  mean  that  I  am  looking  for 
Mr.  Cardross,  senior " 

"  I  am  Mr.  Cardross,  senior." 

Hamil  gazed  at  this  active  gentleman  who  could 
scarcely  be  the  father  of  married  children ;  and  yet,  as 
he  looked,  the  crisp,  thick  hair,  the  clear  sun-bronzed 
skin  which  had  misled  him  might  after  all  belong  to 
that  type  of  young-old  men  less  common  in  America 
than  in  England.  And  Hamil  also  realised  that  his 
hair  was  silvered,  not  blond,  and  that  neither  the 
hands  nor  the  eyes  of  this  man  were  the  hands  and 
eyes  of  youth. 

"  I  am  Garret  Hamil,"  he  said. 

"  I  recognise  you  perfectly.  I  supposed  you  older 
— until  my  daughter  showed  me  your  picture  in  the 
News  two  weeks  ago !  " 

"  I  supposed  you  older — until  this  minute." 

"I  ami" 

Looking  squarely  into  each  other's  faces  they 
laughed  and  shook  hands. 

"  When  did  you  come,  Mr.  Hamil?  " 

"  Last  night  from  Nassau." 

"Where  are  you  stopping?" 

Hamil  told  him. 

"  Your  rooms  are  ready  here.  It's  very  good  of 
you  to  come  to  see  me  at  once " 

"  It's  very  good  of  you  to  want  me " 

"Want  you,  man  alive!  Of  course  I  want  you! 
I'm  all  on  edge  over  this  landscape  scheme;  I've  done 
nothing  since  we  arrived  from  the  North  but  ride  over 
and  over  the  place — and  I've  not  half  covered  it  yet. 

56 


A    FLANK   MOVEMENT 

•nan  limn  [•in  nil «i  •[••linn  •  •^•[•••••••••i  m\\imm\mmMa*x3smimjimitmmH*^wi&i!sa^ijvaita»ryvm 

That's  the  way  we'll  begin  work,  isn't  it?  Knock 
about  together  and  get  a  general  idea  of  the  country; 
isn't  that  the  best  way?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly " 

"  I  thought  so.  The  way  to  learn  a  country  is  to 
ride  over  it,  fish  over  it,  shoot  over  it,  sail  around  it, 
camp  in  it — that's  my  notion  of  thoroughly  under 
standing  a  region.  If  you're  going  to  improve  it 
you've  got  to  care  something  about  it — begin  to  like 
it — find  pleasure  in  it,  understand  it.  Isn't  that  true, 
Mr.  Hamil?" 

"  Yes — in  a  measure 

"  Of  course  it's  true,"  repeated  Cardross  with  his 
quick  engaging  laugh ;  "  if  a  man  doesn't  care  for  a 
thing  he's  not  fitted  to  alter  or  modify  it.  I've  often 
thought  that  those  old  French  landscape  men  must 
have  dearly  loved  the  country  they  made  so  beautiful 
— loved  it  intelligently — for  they  left  so  much  wild 
beauty  edging  the  formality  of  their  creations.  Do 
you  happen  to  remember  the  Chasse  at  Versailles? 
And  that's  what  I  want  here!  You  don't  mind 
my  instructing  you  in  your  own  profession,  do 
you?  " 

They  both  laughed  again,  apparently  qualified  to 
understand  one  another. 

Cardross  said :  "  I'm  glad  you're  young ;  I'm  glad 
you've  come.  This  is  going  to  be  the  pleasantest  win 
ter  of  my  life.  There  isn't  anything  I'd  rather  do 
than  just  this  kind  of  thing — if  you'll  let  me  tag  after 
you  and  talk  about  it.  You  don't  mind,  do  you?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Hamil  sincerely. 

"  We'll  probably  have  rows,"  suggested  Cardross ; 
"  I  may  want  vistas  and  terraces  and  fountains  where 
they  ought  not  to  be." 

57 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  replied  Harail,  laughing ; 
"  you'll  understand  things  when  I  give  reasons." 

"  That's  what  I  want — reasons.  If  anybody  would 
only  give  me  reasons ! — but  nobody  does.  Listen ; 
will  you  come  up  to  the  house  with  me  and  meet  my 
family?  And  then  you'll  lunch  with  them — I've  a  busi 
ness  luncheon  at  the  club — unfortunately — but  I'll 
come  back.  Meanwhile  there'll  be  somebody  to  show 
you  about,  or  you  can  run  out  to  the  Inlet  in  one  of 
the  motor-boats  if  you  like,  or  do  anything  you  like 
that  may  amuse  you ;  the  main  thing  is  for  you  to  be 
amused,  to  find  this  place  agreeable,  to  like  this  kind 
of  country,  to  like  us.  Then  you  can  do  good  work, 
Mr.  Hamil." 

A  grinning  negro  shuffled  up  and  closed  the  gate 
as  they  left  the  grove  together  and  started  across  the 
lawn.  Cardross,  cordial  in  his  quick,  vigorous  man 
ner,  strolled  with  his  hands  in  his  coat  pockets,  plant 
ing  each  white-shod  foot  firmly  as  he  walked,  frequently 
turning  head  and  shoulders  squarely  toward  his  com 
panion  when  speaking. 

He  must  have  been  over  fifty ;  he  did  not  appear 
forty ;  still,  on  closer  and  more  detailed  inspection 
H&mil  understood  how  much  his  alert,  well-made  figure 
had  to  do  with  the  first  impression  of  youth.  Yet  his 
expression  had  nothing  in  it  of  that  shadow  which 
falls  with  years — nothing  to  show  to  the  world  that 
he  had  once  taken  the  world  by  the  throat  and  wrung 
a  fortune  out  of  it — nothing  of  the  hard  gravity  or 
the  underlying  sadness  of  almost  ruthless  success,  and 
the  responsibility  for  it. 

Yet,  from  the  first,  Kamil  had  been  aware  of  all 
tliat  was  behind  this  unstudied  frankness,  this  friendly 
vigour.  There  was  a  man,  there — every  inch  a  man, 

58 


A    FLANK  MOVEMENT 


but  exactly  of  what  sort  the  younger  man  had  not  yet 
decided. 

A  faded  and  very  stout  lady,  gowned  with  elaborate 
simplicity,  yet  somehow  suggesting  well-bred  untidi 
ness,  rolled  toward  them,  propelled  in  a  wheeled-chair 
by  a  black  servant. 

"  Dear,"  said  Mr.  Cardross,  "  this  is  Mr.  Hamil." 
And  Mrs.  Cardross  offered  him  her  chubby  hand  and 
said  a  little  more  than  he  expected.  Then,  to  her  hus 
band,  languidly: 

"  They're  playing  tennis,  Neville.  If  Mr.  Ilamil 
would  care  to  play  there  are  tennis-shoes  belonging  to 
Gray  and  Acton." 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Cardross,"  said  Hamil,  "  but,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  am  not  yet  acclimated." 

"  You  feel  a  little  sleepy  ?  "  drawled  Mrs.  Cardross, 
maternally  solicitous ;  "  everybody  does  for  the  first 
few  days."  And  to  her  husband :  "  Jessie  and  Cecile 
are  playing;  Shiela  must  be  somewhere  about —  You 
will  lunch  with  us,  Mr.  Hamil?  There's  to  be  a  tennis 
luncheon  under  the  oaks — we'd  really  like  to  have  you 
if  you  can  stay." 

Hamil  accepted  as  simply  as  the  invitation  was 
given ;  Mrs.  Cardross  exchanged  a  few  words  with  her 
husband  in  that  perfectly  natural  drawl  which  at  first 
might  have  been  mistaken  for  languid  affectation ;  then 
she  smiled  at  Hamil  and  turned  around  in  her  basket 
chair,  parasol  tilted,  and  the  black  boy  began  slowly 
pedalling  her  away  across  the  lawn. 

"  We'll  step  over  to  the  tennis-courts,"  said  Car- 
dross,  replacing  the  straw  hat  which  he  had  removed 
to  salute  his  wife ;  "  they're  having  a  sort  of  scratch- 
tournament  I  believe — my  daughters  and  some  other 

59 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


young  people.  I  think  you'll  find  the  courts  rather 
pretty." 

The  grounds  were  certainly  quaint ;  spaces  for  four 
white  marl  courts  had  been  cleared,  hewn  out  of  the 
solid  jungle  which  walled  them  in  with  a  noble  living 
growth  of  live  oak,  cedar,  magnolia,  and  palmetto.  And 
on  these  courts  a  very  gay  company  of  young1  people 
in  white  were  playing  or  applauding  the  players  while 
the  snowy  balls  flew  across  the  nets  and  the  resonant 
blows  of  the  bats  rang  out. 

And  first  Mr.  Cardross  presented  Hamil  to  his 
handsome  married  daughter,  Mrs.  Acton  Car  rick,  a 
jolly,  freckled,  young  matron  who  showed  her  teeth 
when  she  smiled  and  shook  hands  like  her  father ;  and 
then  he  was  made  known  to  the  youngest  daughter, 
Cecile  Cardross,  small,  plump,  and  sun-tanned,  with 
ruddy  hair  and  mischief  in  every  feature. 

There  was,  also,  a  willowy  Miss  Staines  and  a 
blond  Miss  Anan,  and  a  very  young  Mr.  Anan — a 
brother — and  a  grave  and  gaunt  Mr.  Gatewood  and  a 
stout  Mr.  Ellison,  and  a  number  of  others  less  easy 
to  remember. 

"  This  wholesale  introduction  business  is  always 
perplexing,"  observed  Cardross ;  "  but  they'll  all  re 
member  you,  and  after  a  time  you'll  begin  to  distin 
guish  them  from  the  shrubbery.  No  " — as  Mrs.  Car- 
rick  asked  Hamil  if  he  cared  to  play  — "  he  would 
rather  look  on  this  time,  Jessie.  Go  ahead ;  we  are  not 
interrupting  you;  where  is  Shiela " 

And  Hamil,  chancing  to  turn,  saw  her,  tennis-bat 
tucked  under  one  bare  arm,  emerging  from  the  jungle 
path ;  and  at  the  same  instant  she  caught  sight  of  him. 
Both  little  chalked  shoes  stood  stockstill — for  a  sec 
ond  only — then  she  came  forward,  leisurely,  continu- 

60 


A    FLANK   MOVEMENT 


ing  to  eat  the  ripe  guava  with  which  she  had  been  occu 
pied. 

Cardross,  advancing,  said :  "  ThL  is  Mr.  Hamil, 
dearest ;  and,"  to  the  young  man :  "  My  daughter 
Shiela." 

She  nodded  politely. 

"  Now  I've  got  to  go,  Shiela,"  continued  Cardross. 
"  Hamil,  you'll  amuse  yourself,  won't  you,  until  I  re 
turn  after  luncheon?  Shiela,  Mr.  Hamil  doesn't  care 
to  play  tennis ;  so  if  you'll  find  out  what  he  does  care 
to  do — "  He  saluted  the  young  people  gaily  and 
started  across  the  lawn  where  a  very  black  boy  with  a 
chair  stood  ready  to  convey  him  to  the  village  and 
across  the  railroad  tracks  to  that  demure  little  flower- 
embowered  cottage  the  interior  of  which  presents  such 
an  amazing  contrast  to  the  exterior. 


CHAPTER    VI 

ARMISTICE 

THE  young  girl  beside  him  had  finished  her  guava, 
and  now,  idly  swinging  her  tennis-bat,  stood  watching 
the  games  in  the  sunken  courts  below. 

"  Please  don't  consider  me  a  burden,"  he  said.  "  I 
would  be  very  glad  to  sit  here  and  watch  you  play." 

"  I  have  been  playing,  thank  you." 

"  But   you   won't   let   me   interfere  with   anything 


"  No,  Mr.  Hamil,  I  won't  let  you  interfere  —  with 
anything." 

She  stood  swinging  her  bat,  apparently  preoccu 
pied  with  her  own  thoughts  —  like  a  very  grave  goddess, 
he  thought,  glancing  at  her  askance  —  a  very  young 
goddess,  immersed  in  celestial  reverie  far  beyond  mortal 
comprehension. 

"  Do  you  like  guavas  ?  "  she  inquired.  And,  clos 
ing  her  own  question  :  "  But  you  had  better  not  until 
you  are  acclimated.  Do  you  feel  very  sleepy,  Mr. 
Hamil?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  he  said. 

"  Oh  !  You  ought  to  conform  to  tradition.  There's 
a  particularly  alluring  hammock  on  the  veranda." 

"  To  get  rid  of  me  is  it  necessary  to  make  me  take 
a  nap  ?  "  he  protested. 

"  So  you  refuse  to  go  to  sleep  ?  " 
62 


ARMISTICE 


"  I  certainly  do." 

She  sighed  and  tucked  the  tennis-bat  under  her 
left  arm.  "  Come,"  she  said,  moving  forward,  "  my 
father  will  ask  me  what  I  have  done  to  amuse  you,  and 
I  had  better  hunt  up  something  to  tell  him  about. 
You'll  want  to  see  the  groves  of  course " 

"  Yes,  but  I'm  not  going  to  drag  you  about  with 
me " 

"  Come,"  she  repeated ;  and  as  he  stood  his  ground 
obstinately:  "Please?" — with  a  rising  inflection  hint 
ing  at  command. 

"  Why  on  earth  don't  you  play  tennis  and  let  me 
sit  and  watch  you?  "  he  asked,  joining  and  keeping 
step  with  her. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  a  woman  for  reasons,  Mr. 
Hamil?" 

"  It's  too  bad  to  spoil  your  morning " 

"  I  know  it ;  so  in  revenge  I'm  going  to  spoil  yours. 
Our  trip  is  called  '  Seeing  Florida,'  so  you  must  Hsten 
to  your  guide  very  attentively.  This  is  a  pomelo 
grove — thank  you,"  to  the  negro  who  opened  the 
gate — "  here  you  see  blossoms  and  ripe  fruit  together 
on  the  same  tree.  A  few  palmettos  have  been  planted 
here  for  various  agricultural  reasons.  This  is  a 
camphor  bush "  —touching  it  with  her  bat — "  the 
leaves  when  crushed  in  the  palm  exhale  a  delightful 
fragr " 

"  Calypso !  " 

She  turned  toward  him  with  coldest  composure. 
"  That  never  happened,  Mr.  Hamil." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  it  never  did." 

A  slight  colour  remained  in  his  face;  hers  was  cool 
enough. 

"  Did  you  think  it  happened  ?  "  she  asked.  He 
63 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


shook  his  head.  "  No,"  he  repeated  seriously,  "  I  know 
that  it  never  happened." 

She  said :  "  If  you  are  quite  sure  it  never  happened, 
there  is  no  harm  in  pretending  it  did.  .  .  .  What  was 
it  you  called  me?  " 

"  I  could  never  remember,  Miss  Cardross — unless 
you  tell  me." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you — if  you  are  quite  sure  you  don't 
remember.  You  called  me  '  Calypso.'  " 

And  looking  up  he  surprised  the  rare  laughter  in 
her  eyes. 

"  You  are  rather  nice  after  all,"  she  said,  "  or  is  it 
only  that  I  have  you  under  such  rigid  discipline?  But 
it  was  very  bad  taste  in  you  to  recall  so  crudely  what 
never  occurred — until  I  gave  you  the  liberty  to  do  it. 
Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  said.  "  I've  made  two  exhibitions 
of  myself  since  I  knew  you " 

"  One,  Mr.  HamJL  Please  recollect  that  I  am 
scarcely  supposed  to  know  how  many  exhibitions  of 
yourself  you  may  have  made  before  we  were  formally 
presented." 

She  stood  still  under  a  tree  which  drooped  like 
a  leaf-tufted  umbrella,  and  she  said,  swinging  her 
racket :  "  You  will  always  have  me  at  a  disadvantage. 
Do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  That  is  utterly  impossible !  " 

"Is  it?     Do  you  mean  it?" 

"  I  do  with  all  my  heart— 

"  Thank  you ;  but  do  you  mean  it  with  all  your 
logical  intelligence,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  do." 

She  stood,  head  partly  averted,  one  hand  caressing 
the  smooth,  pale-yellow  fruit  which  hung  in  heavy  clus- 

64 


ARMISTICE 


ters  around  her.  And  all  around  her,  too,  the  delicate 
white  blossoms  poured  out  fragrance,  and  the  giant 
swallow-tail  butterflies  in  gold  and  black  fluttered  and 
floated  among  the  blossoms  or  clung  to  them  as  though 
stupefied  by  their  heavy  sweetness. 

"  I  wish  we  had  begun — differently,"  she  mused. 

"  I  don't  wish  it." 

She  said,  turning  on  him  almost  fiercely :  "  You 
persisted  in  talking  to  me  in  the  boat;  you  contrived 
to  make  yourself  interesting  without  being  offensive — 
I  don't  know  how  you  managed  it!  And  then — last 
night — I  was  not  myself.  .  .  .  And  then — tJiat  hap 
pened  !  " 

"Could  anything  more  innocent  have  happened?" 

"  Something  far  more  dignified  could  have  hap 
pened  when  I  heard  you  say  '  Calypso.'  '  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  It's  done ;  we've  misbe 
haved;  and  you  will  have  to  be  dreadfully  careful. 
You  will,  won't  you?  And  yet  I  shall  certainly  hate 
you  heartily  if  you  make  any  difference  between  me 
and  other  women.  Oh,  dear! — Oh,  dear!  The  whole 
situation  is  just  unimportant  enough  to  be  irritat 
ing.  Mr.  Hamil,  I  don't  think  I  care  for  you  very 
much." 

And  as  he  looked  at  her  with  a  troubled  smile,  she 
added : 

"  You  must  not  take  that  declaration  too  literally. 
Can  you  forget — various  things?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to,  Miss  Cardross.  Listen :  nobody 
could  be  more  sweet,  more  simple,  more  natural  than 
the  girl  I  spoke  to — I  dreamed  that  I  talked  with — 
last  night.  I  don't  want  to  forget  that  night,  or  that 
girl.  Must  I?" 

"  Are  you,  in  your  inmost  thoughts,  fastidious  in 
65 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


thinking  of  that  girl?  Is  there  any  reservation,  any 
hesitation  ?  " 

He  said,  meeting  her  eyes :  "  She  is  easily  the  nicest 
girl  I  ever  met — the  very  nicest.  Do  you  think  that  I 
might  have  her  for  a  friend?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  this  girl,  Calypso?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  think  that  she  will  return  to  you  the  exact 
measure  of  friendship  that  you  offer  her.  .  .  .  Be 
cause,  Mr.  Hamil,  she  is  after  all  not  very  old  in  years, 
and  a  little  sensitive  and  impressionable." 

He  thought  to  himself:  "  She  is  a  rather  curious 
mixture  of  impulse  and  reason ;  of  shyness  and  audac 
ity  ;  of  composure  and  timidity ;  of  courage  and  cow 
ardice  and  experience.  But  there  is  in  her  no  treach 
ery;  nothing  mentally  unwholesome." 

They  stood  silent  a  moment  smiling  at  each  other 
rather  seriously ;  then  her  smooth  hand  slid  from  his, 
and  she  drew  a  light  breath. 

"  What  a  relief !  "  she  said. 

"What?" 

"  To  know  you  are  the  kind  of  man  I  knew  you 
were.  That  sounds  rather  Irish,  doesn't  it?  .  .  .  And 
under  her  breath — "  perhaps  it  is.  God  knows !  "  Her 
face  grew  very  grave  for  a  moment,  then,  as  she  turned 
and  looked  at  him,  the  shadow  fell. 

"  Do  you  know — it  was  absurd  of  course — bat  I 
could  scarcely  sleep  last  night  for  sheer  dread  of 
your  coming  to-day.  And  yet  I  knew  what  sort  of 
a  man  you  must  be;  and  this  morning" — she  shook 
her  head — "  I  couldn't  endure  any  breakfast,  and  I 
usually  endure  lots ;  so  I  took  a  spin  down  the  lake  in 
my  chair.  When  I  saw  }rou  just  now  I  was  trying  to 
brace  up  on  a  guava.  Listen  to  me :  I  arn  hungry !  " 

06 


ARMISTICE 


"  You  poor  little  thing " 

"  Sympathy  satisfies  sentiment  but  appetite  prefers 
oranges.  Shall  we  eat  oranges  together  and  become 
friendly  and  messy?  Are  you  even  that  kind  of  a  man? 
Oh,  then  if  you  really  are,  there's  a  mixed  grove  just 
beyond." 

So  together,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  keeping  step, 
they  passed  through  the  new  grove  with  its  enormous 
pendent  bunches  of  grape-fruit,  and  into  a  second 
grove  where  limes  and  mandarins  hung  among  clusters 
of  lemons  and  oranges ;  where  kum-quat  bushes  stood 
stiffly,  studded  with  egg-shaped,  orange-tinted  fruit; 
where  tangerines,  grape-fruit,  and  king-oranges  grew 
upon  the  same  tree,  and  the  deep  scarlet  of  ripe  Jap 
anese  persimmons  and  the  huge  tattered  fronds  of 
banana  trees  formed  a  riotous  background. 

"  This  tree !  "  she  indicated  briefly,  reaching  up ; 
and  her  hand  was  white  even  among  the  milky  orange 
bloom — he  noticed  that  as  he  bent  down  a  laden  bough 
for  her. 

"  Pine-oranges,"  she  said,  "  the  most  delicious  of 
all.  I'll  pick  and  you  hold  the  branch.  And  please 
get  me  a  few  tangerines — those  blood-tangerines  up 
there.  .  .  .  Thank  you;  and  two  Japanese  persimmons 
— and  two  more  for  yourself.  .  .  .  Have  you  a  knife? 
Very  well;  now,  break  a  fan  from  that  saw-palmetto 
and  sweep  a  place  for  me  on  the  ground — that  way. 
And  now  please  look  very  carefully  to  see  if  there  are 
any  spiders.  No  spiders?  No  scorpions?  No  wood- 
ticks?  Are  you  sure?  " 

"  There  may  be  a  bander  snatch,"  he  said  doubtfully, 
dusting  the  ground  with  his  palmetto  fan. 

She  laughed  and  seated  herself  on  the  ground,  drew 
down  her  short  white  tennis-skirt  as  far  as  it  would 

67 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


go  over  her  slim  ankles,  looked  up  at  him  confidently, 
holding  out  her  hand  for  his  knife. 

"  We  are  going  to  be  delightfully  messy  in  a  mo 
ment,"  she  said ;  "  let  me  show  you  how  they  prepare 
an  orange  in  Florida.  This  is  for  you — you  must  take 
it.  ...  And  this  is  for  me.  The  rind  is  all  gone,  you 
see.  Now,  Ulysses.  This  is  the  magic  moment !  " 

And  without  further  ceremony  her  little  teeth  met 
in  the  dripping  golden  pulp ;  and  in  another  moment 
Hamil  was  imitating  her. 

They  appeared  to  be  sufficiently  hungry ;  the 
brilliant  rind,  crinkling,  fell  away  in  golden  corkscrews 
from  orange  after  orange,  and  still  they  ate  on,  chat 
tering  away  together  between  oranges. 

"Isn't  this  primitive  luxury,  Mr.  Hamil?  We 
ought  to  wear  our  bathing-clothes.  .  .  .  Don't  dare 
take  ray  largest  king-orange !  Yes — you  may  have  it ; 
— I  won't  take  it.  .  .  .  Are  you  being  amused?  My 
father  said  that  you  were  to  be  amused.  What  in  the 
world  are  you  staring  at  ?  " 

"  That !  "  said  Hamil,  e\'es  widening.  "  What  on 
earth " 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing — that  is  our  watchman.  We 
have  to  employ  somebody  to  watch  our  groves,  you 
know,  or  all  the  negroes  in  Florida  would  be  banquet 
ing  here.  So  we  have  that  watchman  yonder " 

"  But  it's  a  bird !  "  insisted  Hamil,  "  a  big  gray, 
long-legged,  five-foot  bird  with  a  scarlet  head !  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  girl  serenely ;  "  it's  a  crane. 
His  name  is  Alonzo;  he's  four  feet  high;  and  he's  hor 
ridly  savage.  If  you  came  in  here  without  father  or 
me  or  some  of  the  workmen  who  know  him,  Alonzo 
would  begin  to  dance  at  you,  flapping  his  wings, 
every  plume  erect;  and  if  you  didn't  run  he'd  attack 

68 


ARMISTICE 


you.  That  big,  dagger-like  bill  of  his  is  an  atrocious 
weapon." 

The  crane  resembled  a  round-shouldered,  thin- 
legged  old  gentleman  with  his  hands  tucked  under  his 
coat-tails ;  and  as  he  came  up,  tiptoeing  and  peering 
slyly  at  Hamil  out  of  two  bright  evil-looking  eyes, 
the  girl  raised  her  arm  and  threw  a  kum-quat  at  him 
so  accurately  that  the  bird  veered  off  with  a  huge  hop 
of  grieved  astonishment. 

"  Alonzo !  Go  away  this  instant !  "  she  commanded. 
And  to  Hamil :  "  He's  disgustingly  treacherous ;  he'll 
sidle  up  behind  you  if  he  can.  Give  me  that  palmetto 
fan." 

But  the  bird  saw  her  rise,  and  hastily  retreated  to 
the  farther  edge  of  the  grove,  where  presently  they 
saw  him  pretending  to  hunt  snails  and  lizards  as  inno 
cently  as  though  premeditated  human  assassination  was 
farthest  from  his  thoughts. 

There  was  a  fountain  with  a  coquina  basin  in 
the  grove;  and  here  they  washed  the  orange  juice 
from  their  hands  and  dried  them  on  their  handker 
chiefs. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  Tommy  Tiger?  "  she  asked. 
"  I'm  taming  him." 

"  Very  much,"  he  said  politely. 

"  Well,  he's  in  there  somewhere,"  pointing  to  a  sec 
tion  of  bushy  jungle  edging  the  grove  and  around  which 
was  a  high  heavy  fence  of  closely  woven  buffalo  wire. 
"  Here,  Tommy,  Tommy,  Tommy ! "  she  called,  in  her 
fresh  young  voice  that,  at  times,  broke  deliciously  in  a 
childish  grace-note. 

At  first  Hamil  could  see  nothing  in  the  tangle  of 
brier  and  saw-palmetto,  but  after  a  while  he  became 
aware  of  a  wild-cat,  tufted  ears  flattenend,  standing  in 

69 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


the  shadow  of  a  striped  bush  and  looking  at  him  out  of 
the  greenest  eyes  he  had  ever  beheld. 

"  Pretty  Tom,"  said  the  girl  caressingly.  "  Tom 
my,  come  and  let  Shiela  scratch  his  ears." 

And  the  lynx,  disdainfully  shifting  its  blank  green 
gaze  from  Hamil,  hoisted  an  absurd  stub  of  a  tail  and 
began  rubbing  its  lavishly  whiskered  jowl  against  the 
bush.  Nearer  and  nearer  sidled  the  lithe  grayish  animal, 
cautiously  the  girl  advanced,  until  the  cat  was  rubbing 
cheek  and  flank  against  the  woven-wire  fence.  Then, 
with  infinite  precaution,  she  extended  her  hand,  touched 
the  flat  fierce  head,  and  slowly  began  to  rub  it. 

"  Don't !  "  said  Hamil,  stepping  forward ;  and  at  the 
sound  of  his  voice  and  step  the  cat  whirled  and  struck, 
and  the  girl  sprang  back,  white  to  the  lips. 

For  a  moment  she  said  nothing,  then  looked  up  at 
Hamil  beside  her,  as  pale  as  she. 

"  I  am  not  hurt,"  she  said,  "  only  startled." 

"  I  should  not  have  spoken,"  he  faltered.  "  What 
an  ass  I  am !  " 

"  It  is  all  right ;  I  ought  to  have  cautioned  you  about 
moving  or  speaking.  I  thought  you  understood — but 
please  don't  look  that  way,  Mr.  Hamil.  It  was  not  your 
fault  and  I  am  not  hurt.  Which  teaches  me  a  lesson,  I 
hope.  What  is  the  moral? — don't  attempt  to  caress  the 
impossible? — or  something  similarly  senseless,"  she  added 
gaily.  And  turning  on  the  crouching  tynx :  "  Bad 
Tommy!  Wicked,  treacherous,  bad — no!  Poor  old 
Tom !  You  are  quite  right.  I'd  do  the  same  if  I  were 
trapped  and  anybody  tried  to  patronize  me.  I  know 
how  you  feel — yes,  I  do,  Tommy  Tiger.  And  I'll  tell 
old  Jonas  to  give  you  lots  and  lots  of  delicious  mud 
fish  for  your  dinner  to-night — yes,  I  will,  my  friend. 
LAJso  some  lavender  to  roll  on.  .  .  .  Mr.  Hamil,  you 

70 


ARMISTICE 


are  still  unusually  colourless.  Were  you  really 
afraid?" 

"  Horribly." 

"  Oh,  the  wire  is  too  strong  for  him  to  break  oat,*9 
she  observed  coolly. 

"  I  was  not  afraid  of  that,"  lie  retorted,  reddening. 

She  turned  toward  him,  smilingly  remorseful. 

"  I  know  it !  I  say  such  things — I  don't  know  why. 
You  will  learn  how  to  take  them,  won't  you?  " 

They  walked  on,  passing  through  grove  after  grove, 
Alonzo  tiptoeing  after  them,  and  when,  as  a  matter  of 
precaution  from  time  to  time,  Shiela  looked  back,  the 
bird  pretended  not  to  see  them  until  they  passed  the  last 
gate  and  locked  it.  Then  the  great  crane,  half  flying, 
half  running,  charged  at  the  closed  gate,  dancing  and 
bounding  about ;  and  long  after  they  were  out  of  sight 
Alonzo's  discordant  metallic  shrieks  rang  out  in  baffled 
fury  from  among  the  trees. 

They  had  come  into  a  wide  smooth  roadway  Hanked 
by  walks  shaded  by  quadruple  rows  of  palms.  Oleander 
and  hibiscus  hedges  ran  on  either  side  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  see,  and  long  brilliant  flower-beds  stretched  away 
into  gorgeous  perspective. 

"  This  is  stunning,"  he  said,  staring  about  him. 

"  It  is  our  road  to  the  ocean,  about  two  miles  long," 
she  explained.  "  My  father  designed  it ;  do  you  really 
like  it?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  said  sincerely ;  "  and  I  scarcely  un 
derstand  why  Mr.  Cardross  has  called  me  into  consulta 
tion  if  this  is  the  way  he  can  do  things." 

"  That  is  generous  of  you.  Father  will  be  very 
proud  and  happy  when  I  tell  him." 

They  were  leaning  over  the  rail  of  a  stone  bridge 
together ;  the  clear  stream  below  wound  through  thickets 
6  71 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


of  mangrove,  bamboo,  and  flowering  vines  all  a-flutter 
with  butterflies ;  a  school  of  fish  stemmed  the  current 
with  winnowing  fins ;  myriads  of  brown  and  gold  dragon- 
flies  darted  overhead. 

"  It's  fairyland — the  only  proper  setting  for  you 
after  all,"  he  said. 

Resting  one  elbow  on  the  stone  parapet,  her  cheek 
in  the  hollow  of  her  hand,  she  watched  the  smile  bright 
ening  in  his  face,  but  responded  only  faintly  to  it. 

"  Some  day,"  she  said,  "  when  we  have  blown  the 
froth  and  sparkle  from  our  scarcely  tasted  cup  of  ac 
quaintance,  you  will  talk  to  me  of  serious  things  some 
times — will  you  not  ?  " 

"  Why — yes,"  he  said,  surprised. 

"  I  mean — as  you  would  to  a  man.  You  will  find  me 
capable  of  understanding  you.  You  once  said  to  me,  in 
a  boat,  that  no  two  normal  people  of  opposite  sex  can 
meet  without  experiencing  more  or  less  ..jlesome  in 
terest  in  one  another.  Didn't  you  say  that?  Very  well, 
then ;  I  now  admit  my  normal  interest  in  you — untinged 
by  sentiment.  Don't  disappoint  me." 

He  said  whimsically :  "  I'm  not  intellectual ;  I  don't 
know  very  much  about  anything  except  my  profession." 

u  Then  talk  to  me  about  it.  Goodness !  Don't  I  de- 
^n*e  it?  Is  a  girl  to  violate  precept  and  instinct  on 
in  ill-considered  impulse  only  to  find  the  man  in  the  case 
was  not  worth  it?  And  how  do  you  know  what  else  I 
violated — merely  to  be  kind.  I  must  have  been  mad  to 
doit!" 

He  flushed  up  so  vividly  that  she  winced,  then  added 
quickly :  "  I  didn't  mean  that,  Mr.  Hamil ;  I  knew  you 
were  worth  it  when  I  did  it." 

"  The.  worst  of  it  is  that  I  am  not,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
like  everybody  who  has  been  through  college  and  chooses 

72 


ARMISTICE 


a  profession  for  love  of  it.  I  do  know  something  about 
that  profession ;  outside  of  it,  the  least  I  can  say  for 
myself  is  that  I  care  about  everything  that  goes  en  in 
this  very  jolly  world.  Curiosity  has  led  me  about  b}-  the 
nose.  The  result  is  a  series  of  acquired  smatterings." 

She  regarded  him  intently  with  that  clear  gaze  he 
found  so  refreshing — a  direct,  fearless  scrutiny  which 
straightened  her  eyebrows  to  a  fascinating  level  and  al 
ways  made  him  think  of  a  pagan  marble,  with  delicately 
chiselled,  upcurled  lips,  and  white  brow  youthfully 
grave. 

"  Did  you  study  abroad  ?  " 

"  Yes — not  long  enough." 

She  seemed  rather  astonished  at  this.  Amused,  he 
rested  both  elbows  on  the  parapet,  looking  at  her  from 
between  the  strong,  lean  hands  that  framed  his  face. 

"  It  was  droll — the  way  I  managed  to  scurry  like  a 
jack-rabo.  through  school  and  college  on  nothing  a 
year.  I  was  obliged  to  hurry  post-graduate  courses  and 
Europe  and  such  agreeable  things.  Otherwise  I  would 
probably  be  more  interesting  to  you " 

"  You  are  sufficiently  interesting,"  she  said,  flush 
ing  up  at  his  wilful  misinterpretation. 

And,  as  he  laughed  easily: 

"  The  horrid  thing  about  it  is  that  you  are  int  -r- 
esting  and  3rou  know  it.  All  I  asked  of  you  was*  co 
be  seriously  interesting  to  me — occasionally  ;  and  instead 
you  are  rude " 

"  Rude ! " 

"  Yes,  you  are ! — pretending  that  I  was  disappointed 
in  you  because  you  hadn't  dawdled  around  Europe  for 
years  in  the  wake  of  an  education.  You  are,  appar 
ently,  just  about  the  average  sort  of  man  one  meets 
— yet  I  kicked  over  several  conventions  for  the  sake 

73 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


of  exchanging  a  few  premature  words  with  you,  know 
ing  all  the  while  I  was  to  meet  you  later.  It  cer 
tainly  was  not  for  your  beaux  yeux;  I  am  not  senti 
mental  ! "  she  added  fiercely.  "  And  it  was  not  because 
you  are  a  celebrity — you  are  not  one  yet,  you  know. 
Something  in  you  certainly  appealed  to  something  reck 
less  in  me;  yet  I  did  not  really  feel  very  sinful  when 
I  let  you  speak  to  me;  and,  even  in  the  boat,  I  admit 
frankly  that  I  enjoyed  every  word  that  we  spoke — 
though  I  didn't  appear  to,  did  I  ?  " 

"  No,  you  didn't,"  he  said. 

She  smiled,  watching  him,  chin  on  hand. 

"  I  wonder  how  you'll  like  this  place,"  she  mused. 
'"  It's  gay — in  a  way.  There  are  things  to  do  every 
moment  if  you  let  people  rob  you  of  your  time — dances, 
carnivals,  races,  gambling,  suppers.  There's  the  Fort 
nightly  Club,  and  various  charities  too,  and  dinners  and 
teas  and  all  sorts  of  tilings  to  do  outdoors  on  land  and 
on  water.  Are  you  fond  of  shooting  ?  " 

"  Very.     I  can  do  that  pretty  well." 

u  So  can  I.  We'll  go  with  my  father  and  Gray. 
Gray  is  my  brother ;  you'll  meet  him  at  luncheon.  What 
time  is  it?  " 

He  looked  at  his  watch.     "  Eleven — a  little  after." 

"  We're  missing  the  bathing.  Everybody  splashes 
about  the  pool  or  the  ,ocean  at  this  hour.  Then  every 
body  sits  on  the  veranda  of  The  Breakers  and  drinks 
tilings  and  gossips  until  luncheon.  Rather  intellectual, 
isn't  it?  " 

"  Sufficiently,"  he  replied  lazily. 

She  leaned  over  the  parapet,  standing  on  the  tips 
of  her  white  shoes  and  looked  down  at  the  school  of  fish. 
Presently  she  pointed  to  a  snake  swimming  against  the 
current. 


ARMISTICE 


"  A  moccasin  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  only  a  water  snake.  They  call  everything 
moccasins  down  here,  but  real  moccasins  are  not  very 
common." 

"And  rattlesnakes?" 

"  Scarcer  still.  You  hear  stories,  but — "  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Of  course  when  we  are  quail 
shooting  it's  well  to  look  where  you  step,  but  there  are 
more  snakes  in  the  latitude  of  Saint  Augustine  than  there 
are  here.  When  father  and  I  are  shooting  we  never  think 
anything  about  them.  I'm  more  afraid  of  those  horrid 
wood-ticks.  Listen;  shall  we  go  camping?" 

"  But  I  have  work  on  hand,"  he  said  dejectedly. 

"  That  is  part  of  your  work.  Father  said  so.  Any 
way  I  know  he  means  to  camp  with  you  somewhere  in 
the  hammock,  and  if  Gray  goes  I  go  too." 

"  Calypso,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  what  I've  been 
hearing  about  you?  I've  heard  that  you  are  the  most 
assiduously  run-after  girl  at  Palm  Beach.  And  if  you 
are,  what  on  earth  will  the  legions  of  the  adoring  say 
when  you  take  to  the  jungle?  " 

"Who  said  that  about  me?"  she  asked,  smiling 
adorably.  * 

"Is  it  true?" 

"  I  am — liked.     Who  said  it?  " 

'  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  he  continued  perversely, 
"  that  I  have  monopolised  the  reigning  beauty  of  Palm 
Beach  for  an  entire  morning." 

"  Yes,  you  have  and  it  is  high  time  you  understood 
it.  Who  said  this  to  you?  " 

"  Well— I  gathered  the  fact " 

"Who?" 

"  My  aunt — Miss  Palliser." 

•'  Do  you  know,"  said  Shiela  Cardross  slowly,  "  that 
75 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Miss  Palliser  has  been  exceedingly  nice  to  me?  But  her 
friend,  Miss  Suydam,  is  not  very  civil." 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,"  he  said. 

"  I  could  tell  you  that  it  mattered  nothing,"  she 
said,  looking  straight  at  him ;  "  and  that  would  be  an 
untruth.  I  know  that  many  people  disregard  such 
things — many  are  indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  others, 
or  say  they  are.  I  never  have  been ;  I  want  eve^body 
to  like  me — even  people  I  have  not  the  slightest  interest 
in — people  I  do  not  even  know — I  want  them  all  to  like 
me.  For  I  must  tell  you,  Mr.  Hamil,  that  when  any 
body  dislikes  me,  and  I  know  it,  I  am  just  as  unhappy 
about  it  as  though  I  cared  for  them." 

"  It's  absurd  for  anybody  not  to  like  you ! "  he 
said. 

"  Well,  do  you  know  it  really  is  absurd — if  they  only 
knew  how  willing  I  am  to  like  everybody.  ...  I  was 
inclined  to  like  Miss  Suydam." 

Hamil  remained  silent. 

The  girl  added :  "  One  does  not  absolutely  disregard 
the  displeasure  of  such  people." 

"  They  didn't  some  years  ago  when  there  were  no 
shops  on  Fifth  Avenue  and  gentlemen  wore  side-whis 
kers,"  said  Hamil,  smiling. 

Shiek  Cardross  shrugged.  "  I'm  sorry ;  I  was  in 
clined  to  like  her.  She  misses  more  than  I  do  because 
we  are  a  jolly  and  amusing  family.  It's  curious  how 
much  energy  is  wasted  disliking  people.  Who  is  Miss 
Suydam  ?  " 

"  She's  a  sort  of  a  relative.  I  have  always  known 
her.  I'm  sorry  she  was  rude.  She  is  sometimes." 

They  said  no  more  about  her  or  about  his  aunt ;  and 
presently  they  moved  on  again,  luncheon  being  imminent. 

"  You  will  like  my  sister,  Mrs.  Carrick,"  said  Shiela 
76 


ARMISTICE 


tranquilly.  "  You  know  her  husband,  Acton,  don't  you? 
He's  at  Miami  fishing." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I've  met  him  at  the  club.  He's  very 
agreeable." 

"  He  is  jolly.  And  Jessie — Mrs.  Carrick — is  the 
best  fun  in  the  world.  And  you  are  sure  to  like  my 
little  sister  Cecile ;  every  man  adores  her,  and  you'll  do 
it,  too — yes,  I  mean  sentimentally — until  she  laughs 
you  out  of  it." 

"  Like  yourself,  Calypso,  I'm  not  inclined  to  senti 
ment,"  he  said. 

"  You  can't  help  it  with  Cecile.  Wait !  Then  there 
are  others  to  lunch  with  us — Marjorie  Staines — very 
popular  with  men,  and  Stephanie  Anan — you  studied 
with  her  uncle,  Winslow  Anan,  didn't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed !  "  he  exclaimed  warmly,  "  but  how  did 
you " 

"  Oh,  I  knew  it ;  I  know  lots  about  you,  you  see.  .  .  . 
Then  there  is  Phil  Gatewood — a  perfectly  splendid  fel 
low,  and  Alex  Anan — a  dear  boy,  ready  to  adore  any 
girl  who  looks  sideways  at  him.  ...  I  don't  remember 
who  else  is  to  lunch  with  us,  except  my  brother  Gray. 
Look,  Mr.  Hamil !  They've  actually  sat  down  to  lunch 
eon  without  waiting  for  us !  What  horrid  incivility ! 
Could  your  watch  have  been  wrong? — or  have  we  been 
too  deeply  absorbed?" 

"  I  can  speak  for  one  of  us,"  he  said,  as  they 
came  out  upon  the  lawn  in  full  view  of  the  table  which 
was  spread  under  the  most  beautiful  live-oaks  he  had 
ever  seen. 

Everybody  was  very  friendly.  Gray  Cardross,  a 
nice-looking  boy  who  wore  spectacles,  collected  butterflies, 
and  did  not  look  like  a  "  speed-mad  cub,"  took  Hamil 

77 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


to  the  house,  whither  Shiela  had  already  retired  for 
an  ante-prandial  toilet ;  but  there  is  no  dust  in  that 
part  of  the  world,  and  his  preparations  were  quickly 
made. 

"  Awfully  glad  you  came,"  repeated  young  Cardross 
with  all  the  excessive  cordiality  of  the  young  and  un 
spoiled.  "  Father  has  been  checking  off  the  da}^  on  the 
calendar  since  your  letter  sajdng  you  were  coming  by 
way  of  Nassau.  The  Governor  is  dying  to  begin  opera 
tions  on  that  jungle  yonder.  When  we  camp  I'm  going 
— and  probably  Shiela  is — she  began  clamoring  to  go 
two  weeks  ago.  We  all  had  an  idea  that  you  were 
a  rather  feeble  old  gentleman — like  Mr.  Anan — until 
Shiela  brought  us  the  picture  they  published  of  you  in 
the  paper  two  weeks  ago ;  and  she  said  immediately  that 
if  you  were  young  enough  to  camp  she  was  old  enough 
to  go  too.  She's  a  good  shot,  Mr.  llamil,  and  she  won't 
interfere  with  your  professional  duties 5! 

"  I  should  think  not !  "  said  Hamil  cordially ;  "  but— 
as  for  my  camping — there's  really  almost  nothing  left 
for  me  to  do  except  to  familiarise  myself  with  the  char 
acter  of  your  wilderness.  Your  father  tells  me  he  has 
the  surveys  and  contour  maps  all  ready.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  I  really  could  begin  the  office  work  at  once " 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  don't  do  that !  and  don't  say 
it !  "  exclaimed  the  young  fellow  in  dismay.  "  Father 
and  Shiela  and  I  are  counting  on  this  trip.  There's  a 
butterfly  or  two  I  want  to  get  at  Ruffie  Lake.  Don't 
you  think  it  extremely  necessary  that  you  go  over  the 
entire  territory? — become  thoroughly  saturated  with 
the  atmosphere  and " 

"  Malaria  ? "  suggested  Hamil,  laughing.  "  Of 
course,  seriously,  it  will  be  simply  fine.  And  perhaps 
it  is  the  best  thing  to  do  for  a  while.  Please  don't  mis- 

78 


ARMISTICE 


take  me;  I  want  to  do  it;  I — IVe  never  before  had  a 
vacation  like  this.  It's  like  a  trip  into  paradise  from  the 
sordid  horror  of  Broadway.  Only,"  he  added  slowly  as 
they  left  the  house  and  started  toward  the  luncheon  party 
under  the  live-oaks,  "  I  should  like  to  have  your  father 
know  that  I  am  ready  to  give  him  every  moment  of  my 
time." 

"  That's  what  he  wants — and  so  do  I,"  said  young 
Cardross.  ..."  Hello !  Here's  Shiela  back  before  us  ! 
I'd  like  to  sit  near  enough  to  talk  to  you,  but  Shiela  is 
between  us.  I'll  tell  you  after  luncheon  what  we  propose 
to  do  on  this  trip." 

A  white  servant  seated  Hamil  on  Mrs.  Cardross's 
right;  and  for  a  while  that  languid  but  friendly  lady 
drawled  amiable  trivialities  to  him,  propounding  the 
tritest  questions  with  an  air  of  pleased  profundity,  reply 
ing  to  his  observations  with  harmlessly  complacent  plati 
tudes — a  good  woman,  every  inch  of  her — one  who  had 
never  known  an  unkindly  act  or  word  in  the  circle  of  her 
own  family — one  who  had  always  been  accustomed  to 
honor,  deference,  and  affection — of  whom  nothing  more 
had  ever  been  demanded  than  the  affections  of  a  good  wife 
and  a  good  mother. 

Being  very,  very  stout,  and  elaborately  upholstered, 
a  shady  hammock  couch  suited  her  best ;  and  as  she  was 
eternally  dieting  and  was  too  stout  to  sit  comfortably, 
she  never  remained  very  long  at  table. 

Gray  escorted  her  houseward  in  the  midst  of  the 
festivities.  She  nodded  a  gracious  apology  to  all,  en 
tered  her  wheel-chair,  and  was  rolled  heavily  away  for 
her  daily  siesta. 

Everybody  appeared  to  be  friendly  to  him,  even 
cordial.  Mrs.  Acton  Carrick  talked  to  liim  in  her 

79 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


pretty,  decisive,  animated  manner,  a  feminine  reflection 
of  her  father's  characteristic  energy  and  frankness. 

Her  younger  sister,  Cecile,  possessed  a  drawl  like  her 
mother's.  Petite,  distractingly  pretty,  Hamil  recognised 
immediately  her  attraction — experienced  it,  amused 
himself  by  yielding  to  it  as  he  exchanged  conventionally 
preliminary  observations  with  her  across  the  table. 

Men,  on  first  acquaintance,  were  usualty  very  easily 
captivated,  for  she  had  not  only  all  the  general  attrac 
tion  of  being  young,  feminine,  and  unusually  ornamental, 
but  she  also  possessed  numberless  individualities  like  a 
rapid  fire  of  incarnations,  which  since  she  was  sixteen 
had  kept  many  a  young  man,  good  and  true,  madly 
guessing  which  was  the  real  Cecile.  And  yet  all  the  vari 
ous  and  assorted  Ceciles  seemed  equally  desirable,  sus 
ceptible,  and  eternally  on  the  verge  of  being  rounded  up 
and  captured ;  that  was  the  worst  of  it ;  and  no  young 
man  she  had  ever  known  had  wholly  relinquished  hope. 
For  even  in  the  graceful  act  of  side-stepping  the  smit 
ten,  the  girl's  eyes  and  lips  seemed  unconsciously  to 
unite  in  a  gay  little  unspoken  promise — "  This  serial 
story  is  to  be  continued  in  our  next — perhaps." 

As  for  the  other  people  at  the  table  Hamil  began  to 
distinguish  one  from  another  by  degrees ;  the  fair-haired 
Anans,  sister  and  brother,  who  spoke  of  their  celebrated 
uncle,  Winslow  Anan,  and  his  predictions  concerning 
Hamil  as  his  legitimate  successor;  Marjorie  Staines, 
willowy,  active,  fresh  as  a  stem  of  white  jasmine,  and 
inconsequent  as  a  very  restless  bird;  Philip  Gatewood, 
grave,  thin,  prematurely  saddened  by  the  responsibility 
of  a  vast  inheritance,  consumed  by  a  desire  for  an  artis 
tic  career,  looking  at  the  world  with  his  owlish  eyes 
through  the  prismatic  colors  of  a  set  palette. 

There  were  others  there  whom  as  yet  he  had  been 
80 


ARMISTICE 


unable  to  differentiate;  smiling,  well-mannered,  affable 
people  who  chattered  with  more  or  less  intimacy  among 
themselves  as  though  accustomed  to  meeting  one  an 
other  year  after  year  in  this  winter  rendezvous.  And 
everywhere  he  felt  the  easy,  informal  friendliness  and 
goodwill  of  these  young  people. 

"  Are  you  being  amused?  "  asked  Shiela  beside  him. 
"  My  father's  orders,  you  know,"  she  added  demurely. 

They  stood  up  as  Mrs.  Carrick  rose  and  left  the 
table  followed  by  the  others;  and  he  looked  at  Shiela 
expecting  her  to  imitate  her  sister's  example.  As  she 
did  not,  he  waited  beside  her,  his  cigarette  unlighted. 

Presently  she  bent  over  the  table,  extended  her  arm, 
and  lifted  a  small  burning  lamp  of  silver  toward  him; 
and,  thanking  her,  he  lighted  his  cigarette. 

"Siesta?  "she  asked. 

"  No ;  I  feel  fairly  normal." 

"  That's  abnormal  in  Florida.  But  if  you  really 
don't  feel  sleepy — if  you  really  don't — we'll  get  the 
Gracllis — our  fastest  motor-boat — and  run  down  to 
the  Beach  Club  and  get  father.  Shall  we — just  you 
and  I?" 

"  And  the  engineer?  " 

"  I'll  run  the  Gracilis  if  you  will  steer,"  she  said 
quietly. 

"I'll  do  whichever  you  wish,  Calypso,  steer  or  run 
things." 

She  looked  up  with  that  quick  smile  which  seemed 
to  transfigure  her  into  something  a  little  more  than 
mortal. 

"  Why  in  the  world  have  I  ever  been  afraid  of  you?  " 
she  said.  "Will  you  come?  I  think  our  galley  is 
in  commission.  .  .  .  Once  I  told  you  that  Calypso  was 
a  land-nymph.  But — time  changes  us  all,  you  know — 

81 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


and  as  nobody  reads  the  classics  any  longer  nobody  will 
perceive  the  anachronism." 

"  Except  ourselves." 

"  Except  ourselves,  Ulysses ;  and  we'll  forgive  each 
other."  She  took  a  step  out  from  the  shadow  of  the 
oaks'  foliage  into  the  white  sunlight  and  turned,  look 
ing  back  at  him. 

And  he  followed,  as  did  his  heroic  namesake  in  the 
golden  noon  of  the  age  of  fable. 

As  they  came  in  sight  of  the  sea  he  halted. 

"  That's  curious ! "  he  exclaimed ;  "  there  is  the 
Ariani  again !  " 

"  The  yacht  you  came  on  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  wonder  if  there's  been  an  accident.  She 
cleared  for  Miami  last  night." 

They  stood  looking  at  the  white  steamer  for  a  mo 
ment. 

"  I  hope  everything's  all  right  with  the  Ariani,"  he 
murmured ;  then  turned  to  the  girl  beside  him. 

"  By  the  way  I  have  a  message  for  you  from  a  man 
on  board ;  I  forgot  to  deliver  it." 

"  A  message  for  me?  " 

"  From  a  very  ornamental  young  man  who  de 
sired  to  be  particularly  remembered  to  Shiela  Cardross 
until  he  could  pay  his  respects  in  person.  Can  you 
guess  ?  " 

For  a  moment  she  looked  at  him  with  a  tremor  of 
curiosity  and  amusement  edging  her  lips. 

"Louis  Malcourt,"  he  said,  smiling;  and  turned 
again  to  the  sea. 

A  sudden,  still,  inward  fright  seized  her;  the  curious 
soundless  crash  of  her  own  senses  followed — as  though 
all  within  had  given  way. 

She  had  known  many,  many  such  moments ;  one  was 


ARMISTICE 


upon  her  now,  the  clutching  terror  of  it  seeming  to 
stiffen  the  very  soul  within  her. 

"  I  hope  all's  well  with  the  Ariani"  he  repeated  un 
der  his  breath,  staring  at  the  sea. 

Miss  Cardross  said  nothing. 


CHAPTER    VH 

A    CHANGE    OF    BASE 

FEBE.UABY,  the  gayest  winter  month  on  the  East 
Coast,  found  the  winter  resorts  already  overcrowded. 
Relays  and  consignments  of  fashion  arrived  and  de 
parted  on  every  train;  the  permanent  winter  colony, 
composed  of  those  who  owned  or  rented  villas  and  those 
who  remained  for  the  three  months  at  either  of  the 
great  hotels,  had  started  the  season  vigorously. 
Dances,  dinners,  lawn  fetes,  entertainments  for  local 
churches  and  charities  left  little  time  for  anything 
except  the  routine  of  the  bathing-hour,  the  noon  gath 
ering  at  "  The  Breakers,"  and  tea  during  the  concert. 

Every  day  beach,  pier,  and  swimming-pool  were 
thronged ;  every  day  the  white  motor-cars  rushed  south 
ward  to  Miami,  and  the  swift  power-boats  sped  north 
ward  to  the  Inlet ;  and  the  house-boat  rendezvous  rang 
with  the  gay  laughter  of  pretty  women,  and  the  restau 
rant  of  the  Beach  Club  flashed  with  their  jewels. 

Dozens  of  villas  had  begun  their  series  of  house- 
parties  ;  attractive  girls  held  court  everywhere — under 
coco-palm  and  hibiscus,  along  the  beach,  on  the  snowy 
decks  of  yachts ;  agreeable  girls  fished  from  the  pier, 
pervaded  bazaars  for  charity,  sauntered,  bare  of  elbow 
and  throat,  across  the  sandy  links;  adorable  girls  ap 
peared  everywhere,  on  veranda,  in  canoes,  in  wheel 
chairs,  ID  the  surf  and  out  of  it — everywhere  youth  and 

84 


A    CHANGE   OF  BASE 


beauty  decorated  the  sun-drenched  landscape.  And 
Hamil  thought  that  he  had  never  before  beheld  so  many 
ornamental  women  together  in  any  one  place  except  in 
his  native  city ;  certainly,  nowhere  had  he  ever  encoun 
tered  such  a  heterogeneous  mixture  of  all  the  shades, 
nuances,  tints,  hues,  and  grades  which  enter  into  the 
warp  and  weft  of  the  American  social  fabric;  and  he 
noticed  some  colours  that  do  not  enter  into  that  fabric 
at  all. 

East,  West,  North,  and  South  sent  types  of  those 
worthy  citizens  who  upheld  local  social  structures ;  the 
brilliant  migrants  were  there  also — samples  of  the  gay, 
wealthy,  over-accented  floating  population  of  great 
cities — the  rich  and  homeless  and  restless — those  who 
lived  and  had  their  social  being  in  the  gorgeous  and 
expensive  hotels ;  who  had  neither  firesides  nor  taxes  nor 
fixed  social  obligations  to  worry  them,  nor  any  of  the 
trying  civic  or  routine  duties  devolving  upon  perma 
nent  inhabitants — the  jewelled  throngers  of  the  horse- 
shows  and  motor-shows,  and  theatres,  and  night  restau 
rants — the  people,  in  fact,  who  make  ocean-liners,  high 
prices,  and  the  metropolis  possible,  and  the  name  of 
their  country  blinked  at  abroad.  For  it  is  not  your 
native  New  Yorker  who  supports  the  continual  fete 
from  the  Bronx  to  the  sea  and  carries  it  over-seas  for 
a  Parisian  summer. 

Then,  too,  the  truly  good  were  there — the  sturdy, 
respectable,  and  sometimes  dowdy  good;  also  the  intel 
lectuals — for  ten  expensive  days  at  a  time — for  it  is  a 
deplorable  fact  that  the  unworthy  frivolous  monopolise 
all  the  money  in  the  world!  And  there,  too,  were  ex 
cursionists  from  East  and  West  and  North  and  South, 
tired,  leaden-eyed,  uncomfortable,  eating  luncheons  on 
private  lawns,  trooping  to  see  some  trained  alligators 

85 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


in  a  muddy  pool,  resting  by  roadsides  and  dunes  in  the 
apathy  of  repletion,  the  sucked  orange  suspended  to 
follow  with  narrowing  eyes  the  progress  of  some  im 
ported  hat  or  gown. 

And  the  bad  were  there ;  not  the  very,  very  bad  per 
haps ;  but  the  doubtful;  over- jewelled,  over-tinted  of 
lip  and  brow  and  cheek,  with  shoes  too  shapely  and 
waists  too  small  and  hair  too  bright  and  wavy,  and — 
but  dusty  alpaca  and  false  front  cannot  do  absolute 
justice  to  a  pearl  collar  and  a  gown  of  lace;  and  tired, 
toil-dimmed  eyes  may  make  mistakes,  especially  as  it 
is  already  a  tradition  that  America  goes  to  Palm  Beach 
to  cut  up  shindies,  or  watch  others  do  it. 

So  they  were  all  there>  the  irreproachable,  the  amus 
ing,  the  inevitable,  the  intellectual,  the  good,  and  the 
bad,  the  onduled,  and  the  scant  of  hair. 

And,  belonging  to  one  or  more  of  these  divisions, 
Portlaw,  Wayward,  and  Malcourt  were  there — had  been 
there,  now,  for  several  weeks,  the  latter  as  a  guest  at 
the  Cardross  villa.  For  the  demon  of  caprice  had  seized 
on  Wayward,  and  half-way  to  Miami  he  had  turned 
back  for  no  reason  under  the  sun  apparently — though 
Constance  Palliser  had  been  very  glad  to  see  him  after 
so  many  years. 

The  month  had  made  a  new  man  of  Hamil.  For 
one  thing  he  had  become  more  or  less  acclimated ;  he  no 
longer  desired  to  sleep  several  times  a  day,  he  could 
now  assimilate  guavas  without  disaster,  and  walk  about 
without  acquiring  headaches  or  deluging  himself  in  per 
spiration.  For  another  he  was  enchanted  with  his  work 
and  with  Shiela  Cardross,  and  with  the  entire  Cardross 
family. 

The  month  had  been  a  busy  one  for  him.  When  he 
wa«s  not  in  the  saddle  with  Neville  Cardross  the  work 

86 


A    CHANGE   OF   BASE 


in  the  new  office  and  draugh ting-room  required  his  close 
attention.  Already  affairs  were  moving  briskly;  he 
had  leased  a  cottage  for  his  office  work ;  draughtsmen 
had  arrived  and  were  fully  occupied,  half  a  dozen  con 
tractors  appeared  on  the  spot,  also  a  forester  and  assist 
ants,  and  a  surveyor  and  staff.  And  the  energetic 
Mr.  Cardross,  also,  was  enjoying  every  minute  of  his 
life. 

Hamil's  plan  for  the  great  main  park  with  its  ter 
races,  miles  of  shell  and  marl  drives,  its  lakes,  bridges, 
arbours,  pools,  shelters,  canals,  fully  satisfied  Cardross. 
Hamil's  engineers  were  still  occupied  with  the  drain 
age  problem,  but  a  happy  solution  was  now  in  sight. 
Woodcutters  had  already  begun  work  on  the  great  cen 
tral  forest  avenue  stretching  straight  away  for  four 
miles  between  green  jungles  topped  by  giant  oaks,  mag 
nolias,  and  palmettos ;  lesser  drives  and  chair  trails 
were  being  planned,  blazed,  and  traced  out;  sample 
coquina  concrete  blocks  had  been  delivered,  and  a  rick 
ety  narrow-gauge  railroad  was  now  being  installed  with 
spidery  branches  reaching  out  through  the  monotonous 
fiat  woods  and  creeping  around  the  boundaries  where  a 
nine-foot  game-proof  fence  of  woven  buffalo  wire  was 
being  erected  on  cypress  posts  by  hundreds  of  negroes. 
Around  this  went  a  telephone  and  telegraph  wire  con 
nected  with  the  house  and  the  gamekeeper's  lodges. 

Beyond  the  vast  park  lay  an  unbroken  wilderness. 
This  had  already  been  surveyed  and  there  remained 
nothing  to  do  except  to  pierce  it  with  a  wide  main  trail 
and  erect  a  few  patrol  camps  of  palmetto  logs  within 
convenient  reach  of  the  duck-haunted  lagoons. 

And  now  toward  the  end  of  the  month,  as  contractor 
after  contractor  arrived  with  gangs  of  negroes  and  were 
swallowed  up  in  the  distant  woodlands,  the  interest  in 
7  87 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


the  Gardross  household  became  acute.  From  the  front 
entrance  of  the  house  guests  and  family  could  see  the 
great  avenue  which  was  being  cleared  through  the  for 
est — could  see  the  vista  growing  hour  by  hour  as  the 
huge  trees  swayed,  bent,  and  came  crashing  earthward. 
Far  away  the  noise  of  the  felling  sounded,  softened  by 
distance;  snowy  jets  of  steam  puffed  up  above  the  trees, 
the  panting  of  a  toy  locomotive  came  on  the  breeze,  the 
mean,  crescendo  whine  of  a  saw-mill. 

"  It's  the  only  way  to  do  things,"  said  Cardross 
again  and  again ;  "  make  up  your  mind  quickly  that 
you  want  to  do  them,  then  do  them  quickly.  I  have  no 
patience  with  a  man  who'll  dawdle  about  a  bit  of  prop 
erty  for  years  and  finally  start  to  improve  it  with  a 
pot  of  geraniums  after  he's  too  old  to  enjoy  anything 
except  gruel.  When  I  plant  a  tree  I  don't  plant  a 
sapling;  I  get  a  machine  and  four  horses  and  a  dozen 
men  and  I  put  in  a  full-grown  tree  so  that  I  can  sit 
under  it  next  day  if  I  wish  to  and  not  spend  thirty 
years  waiting  for  it  to  grow.  Isn't  that  the  way  to 
do  things,  Hamil?  " 

Hamil  said  yes.  It  was  certainly  the  way  to  ac 
complish  things — the  modern  millionaire's  way ;  but  the 
majority  of  people  had  to  do  a  little  waiting  before 
they  could  enjoy  their  vine  and  fig-tree. 

Cardross  sat  down  beside  his  wife,  who  was  reading 
in  a  hammock  chair,  and  gazed  at  the  new  vista  through 
a  pair  of  field-glasses. 

"  Gad,  Hamil !  "  he  said  with  considerable  feeling, 
"  I  hate  to  see  a  noble  tree  go  down ;  it's  like  murder 
to  me.  But  it's  the  only  thing  to  do,  isn't  it?  The 
French  understand  the  value  of  magnificent  distances. 
What  a  glorious  vista  that  will  make,  four  miles 
straight  away  walled  in  by  deathless  green,  and  the 

88 


A    CHANGE   OF  BASE 


blue  lagoon  sparkling  at  the  end  of  the  perspective! 
I  love  it,  I  tell  you.  I  love  it!  " 

"  It  will  be  very  fine,"  said  Hamil.  His  voice 
sounded  a  trifle  tired.  He  had  ridden  many  miles  since 
sunrise.  There  was  marl  on  his  riding-breeches. 

Cardross  continued  to  examine  the  work  in  progress 
through  his  binoculars.  Presently  he  said: 

"  You've  been  overdoing  it,  haven't  you,  Hamil  ? 
My  wife  says  so." 

"  Overdoing  it?  "  repeated  the  young  man,  not  un 
derstanding.  "  Overdoing  what  ?  " 

"  I  mean  you've  a  touch  of  malaria ;  you've  been 
working  a  little  too  hard." 

"  He  has  indeed,"  drawled  Mrs.  Cardross,  laying 
aside  her  novel;  and,  placidly  ignoring  HamiFs  pro 
tests  :  "  Neville,  you  drag  him  about  through  those 
dreadful  swamps  before  he  is  acclimated,  and  you 
keep  him  up  half  the  night  talking  plans  and  making 
sketches.  He  is  too  young  to  work  like  that." 

Hamil  turned  red;  but  it  was  impossible  to  resenb 
or  mistake  the  kindly  solicitude  of  this  very  large  and 
leisurely  lady  whose  steadily  increasing  motherly  inter 
est  in  him  had  at  times  tried  his  dignity  in  that  very 
lively  family. 

That  he  was  already  a  successful  young  man  with 
a  metropolitan  reputation  made  little  or  no  impression 
upon  her.  He  was  young,  alone,  and  she  liked  him  bet 
ter  and  better  every  day  until  that  liking  arrived  at 
the  point  where  his  physical  welfare  began  to  pre 
occupy  her.  So  she  sent  maids  to  his  room  with  nour 
ishing  broths  at  odd  and  unexpected  moments,  and  she 
presented  him  with  so  many  boxes  of  quinine  that  their 
disposal  became  a  problem  until  Shiela  took  them  off 
his  hands  and  replaced  them  in  her  mother's  medicine 

89 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


chest,  whence,  in  due  time,  they  returned  again  as  gifts 
to  Hamil. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Cardross,"  he  said,  taking  a  vacant 
chair  beside  her  hammock,  "  I  really  am  perfectly  well 
and  perfectly  acclimated,  and  I  enjoy  every  moment  of 
the  day  whether  here  as  your  guest  or  in  the  saddle  with 
your  husband  or  in  the  office  over  the  plans " 

"  But  you  are  always  at  work !  "  she  drawled ;  "  we 
never  see  you." 

"  But  that's  why  I  am  here,"  he  insisted,  smiling. 

"  Neville,"  she  interrupted  calmly ;  "  no  boy  of  his 
age  ought  to  kill  himself.  Listen  to  me;  when  Neville 
and  I  were  married  we  had  very  little,  and  he  began  by 
laying  his  plans  to  work  every  moment.  But  we  had 
an  understanding,"  she  added  blandly ;  "  I  explained 
that  I  did  not  intend  to  grow  old  with  a  wreck  of 
a  man.  Now  you  may  see  the  result  of  our  under 
standing,"  nodding  toward  her  amazingly  youthful 
husband. 

"  Beautiful,  isn't  it?  "  observed  Cardross,  still  look 
ing  through  his  field-glasses.  "  There's  a  baby-show 
next  week  and  I'll  enter  if  you  like,  my  dear.** 

Mrs.  Cardross  smiled  and  took  Hamil's  hand  flat 
between  her  fair,  pudgy  palms. 

"  We  want  you  here,"  she  said  kindly,  "  not  because 
it  is  a  matter  of  convenience,  but  because  we  like  you. 
Be  a  little  more  amiable,  Mr.  Hamil;  you  never  give 
us  a  moment  during  the  day  or  after  dinner.  You 
haven't  been  to  a  dance  yet ;  you  never  go  to  the  beach, 
you  never  motor  or  sail  or  golf.  Don't  you  like  my 
children?" 

"  Like  them !  I  adore  them,"  he  said,  laughing, 
*'  but  how  can " 

"  I'm  going  to  take  him  camping,"  observed  Card- 
90 


A    CHANGE   OF  BASE 


ross,  interrupting.  "  I  want  some  duck-shooting ;  don't 
you,  Hamil?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,  but " 

"  Then  we  start  this  week  for  the  woods " 

" 1  won't  let  you,"  interposed  his  wife ;  "  you'll  talk 
that  boy  to  death  with  your  plans  and  surveys !  " 

"  No,  I'll  promise  to  talk  shooting  every  moment, 
and  do  a  little  of  it,  too.  What  do  you  say,  Hamil? 
Gray  will  go  with  us.  Are  you  game?  " 

"  I'd  love  to,  but  I  promised  Malcourt  that " 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  Louis  can  wait  for  you  to  go 
North  and  lay  out  Mr.  Portlaw's  park.  I've  the  first 
call  on  you ;  I've  got  you  for  the  winter  here " 

"  But  Portlaw  says " 

"  Oh,  bother  Mr.  Portlaw !  We'll  take  him  along, 
too,  if  he  can  tear  himself  away  from  the  Beach  Club 
long  enough  to  try  less  dangerous  game." 

Since  Malcourt's  arrival  he  and  Portlaw  had  joy 
ously  waded  into  whatever  gaiety  offered,  neck-deep ; 
Portlaw  had  attached  himself  to  the  Club  with  all  the 
deliberation  of  a  born  gourmet  and  a  hopeless  gambler ; 
Malcourt  roamed  society  and  its  suburbs,  drifting  from 
set  to  set  and  from  coterie  to  coterie,  always  an  oppor 
tunist,  catholic  in  his  tastes,  tolerant  of  anything  where 
pretty  women  were  inclined  to  be  amiable.  And  they 
often  were  so  inclined. 

For  his  own  curiosity  he  even  asked  to  be  presented 
to  the  redoubtable  Mrs.  Van  Dieman,  and  he  returned 
at  intervals  to  that  austere  conservatory  of  current  gos 
sip  and  colonial  tradition  partly  because  it  was  policy, 
socially,  partly  because,  curiously  enough,  the  some 
what  transparent  charms  of  Virginia  Suydam,  whom  he 
usually  met  there,  interested  him — enough  to  make  him 
remember  a  provocative  glance  from  her  slow  eyes — 

91 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


very  slow,  deeply  lidded  eyes,  washed  with  the  tint  of 
the  sea  when  it  is  less  blue  than  green.  And  the  curi 
ous  side  of  it  was  that  Malcourt  and  Virginia  had  met 
before,  and  he  had  completely  forgotten.  It  was  diffi 
cult  to  tell  whether  she  had. 

He  usually  remembered  women  who  looked  at  him 
like  that,  tucking  them  away  in  his  mental  list  to  be 
investigated  later.  He  had  quite  a  little  list  in  his  men 
tal  archives  of  women,  wedded  and  otherwise,  who  in 
terested  him  agreeably  or  otherwise.  Neither  Mrs. 
Carrick  nor  Cecile  was  on  that  list.  Shiela  Cardross 
was — and  had  been  for  two  years. 

Hamil,  sitting  on  the  terrace  beside  Mrs.  Cardross, 
became  very  busy  with  his  note-book  as  soon  as  that 
languid  lady  resumed  her  book. 

"  If  you're  going  to  import  wild  boar  from  Ger 
many,"  he  said  to  Cardross,  "  you'll  have  to  fence  in 
some  ten  miles  square — a  hundred  square  miles! — or 
they'll  take  to  the  Everglades." 

"  I'm  going  to,"  returned  that  gentleman  calmly. 
"  I  wish  you'd  ask  McKenna  to  figure  it  out.  I'll  sup 
ply  the  cypress  of  course." 

Hamil  leaned  forward,  a  little  thrilled  with  the 
colossal  scheme.  He  never  could  become  quite  accus 
tomed  to  the  vast  scale  on  which  Cardross  undertook 
things. 

"  That  will  make  a  corking  preserve,"  he  said. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  is  in  there  now?  " 

"  Some  bears  and  deer,  a  few  lynx,  perhaps  one  or 
two  panthers.  The  boar  will  hold  their  own — if  they 
can  stand  the  summer — and  I'm  sure  they  can.  The  alli 
gators,  no  doubt,  will  get  some  of  their  young  when 
they  breed.  I  shall  start  with  a  hundred  couple  when 


A    CHANGE   OF  BASE 


you're  ready  for  them.  What  are  you  going  to  do  this 
afternoon?  " 

"  Office  work,"  replied  Hamil,  rising  and  looking  at 
his  marl-stained  puttees  and  spurs.  Then  he  straight 
ened  up  and  smiled  at  Mrs.  Cardross,  who  was  gently 
shaking  her  head,  saying: 

"  The  young  people  are  at  the  bathing-beach ;  I 
wish  you'd  take  a  chair  and  go  down  there — to  please 
me,  Mr.  Hamil." 

"  Come,  Hamil,"  added  Cardross  airily,  "  take  a 
few  days  off — on  yourself.  You've  one  thing  yet  to 
learn :  it's  only  the  unsuccessful  who  are  too  busy  to 
play." 

u  But  what  I'm  doing  is  play,"  remonstrated  the 
young  man  good-humouredly.  "  Well — I'll  go  to  the 
beach,  then."  He  looked  at  the  steam-jets  above  the 
forest,  fumbled  with  his  note-book,  caught  the  eye  of 
Mrs.  Cardross,  put  away  the  book,  and  took  his  leave 
laughingly. 

"  We  go  duck-shooting  to-morrow,"  called  out 
Cardross  after  him. 

Hamil  halted  in  the  doorway  to  protest,  but  the 
elder  man  waved  him  away;  and  he  went  to  his  room 
to  change  riding-clothes  for  flannels  and  sponge  the 
reek  of  horse  and  leather  from  his  person. 

The  beach  was  all  ablaze  with  the  brilliant  colours 
of  sunshades,  hats,  and  bathing-skirts.  Hamil  lost  no 
time  in  getting  into  his  swimming-suit;  and,  as  he 
emerged,  tall,  cleanly  built,  his  compact  figure  deeply 
tanned  where  exposed,  Portlaw,  waddling  briskly  to 
ward  the  ocean,  greeted  him  with  the  traditional :  "  Come 
on !  it's  fine ! "  and  informed  him  furthermore  that 
"  everybody  "  was  there. 

93 


CHAPTER    VIII 

MANffiUVERING 

EYER,YBODY  seemed  to  be  there,  either  splashing 
about  in  the  Atlantic  or  playing  ball  on  the  beach  or 
congregated  along  the  sands  observant  of  the  jolly, 
riotous  scene  sparkling  under  the  magnificence  of  a 
cloudless  sky. 

Hamil  nodded  to  a  few  people  as  he  sauntered  to 
ward  the  surf;  he  stopped  and  spoke  to  his  aunt  and 
Colonel  Vetchen,  who  informed  him  that  Virginia  and 
Cuyp  were  somewhere  together  chastely  embracing  the 
ocean ;  he  nodded  to  old  Classon  who  was  toddling 
along  the  wet  sands  in  a  costume  which  revealed  consid 
erable  stomach;  he  saw  Malcourt,  knee-deep,  hovering 
around  Shiela,  yet  missing  nothing  of  what  went  on 
around  him,  particularly  wherever  the  swing  of  a  bath 
ing-skirt  caught  his  quick,  handsome  eyes. 

Then  Cecile  stretched  out  an  inviting  hand  to  him 
from  the  water  and  he  caught  it,  and  together  they 
hurled  themselves  head  first  into  the  surf ,  swimming  side 
by  side  out  to  the  raft. 

"  It's  nice  to  see  you  again,"  said  the  girl.  "  Are 
you  going  to  be  agreeable  now  and  go  about  with  us? 
There's  a  luncheon  at  two — your  fair  friend  Virginia 
Suydam  has  asked  us,  much  to  our  surprise — but 
after  that  Fin  quite  free  if  you've  anything  to  pro 
pose." 

94 


HANCEUFERING 


She  looked  up  at  him,  pink  and  fresh  as  a  wet  rose, 
balanced  there  on  the  edge  of  the  rocking  raft. 

"Anything  to  propose?"  he  repeated;  "I  don't 
know;  there's  scarcely  anything  I  wouldn't  propose  to 
you.  So  you're  going  to  Virginia's  luncheon  ?  " 

"/am;  Shiela  won't."  She  frowned.  "It's  just 
as  it  was  two  years  ago  when  Louis  Malcourt  tagged 
after  her  every  second.  It's  stupid,  but  we  can't  count 
on  them  any  more." 

"  Does— does  Malcourt " 

"  Tag  after  Shiela?  Haven't  you  seen  it?  You've 
been  too  busy  to  notice.  I  wish  you  wouldn't  work  every 
minute.  There  was  the  j  oiliest  sort  of  a  dance  at  the 
O 'Haras'  last  night — while  you  were  fast  asleep.  I 
know  you  were  because  old  Jonas  told  mother  you  had 
fallen  asleep  in  your  chair  with  your  head  among  a 
pile  of  blue-prints.  On  my  way  to  the  dance  I  wanted 
to  go  in  and  tie  one  of  Shiela's  cunning  little  lace 
morning  caps  under  your  chin,  but  Jessie  wouldn't  go 
with  me.  They're  perfectly  sweet  and  madly  fashion 
able — these  little  Louis  XVI  caps.  I'll  show  you  one 
some  day." 

For  a  few  moments  the  girl  rattled  on  capriciously, 
swinging  her  stockinged  legs  in  the  smooth  green 
swells  that  rose  above  her  knees  along  the  raft's  edge; 
and  he  sat  silent  beside  her,  half-listening,  half-pre 
occupied,  his  eyes  instinctively  searching  the  water's 
edge  beyond. 

"  I — hadn't  noticed  that  Louis  Malcourt  was  so  de 
voted  to  your  sister,"  he  said. 

Cecile  looked  up  quickly,  but  detected  only  amiable 
indifference  in  the  young  fellow's  face. 

"  They're  always  together ;  elle  s'affiche  &  la  finl" 
she  said  impatiently.  "  Shiela  was  only  eighteen  be- 

95 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


fore;    she's    twenty    now,    and    old    enough    to    know 
whether  she  wants  to  marry  a  man  like  that  or  not," 

Hamil  glanced  around  at  her  incredulously. 
"Marry  Malcourt?" 

But  Cecile  went  on  headlong  in  the  wake  of  her 
own  ideas. 

"  He's  a  sort  of  a  relative ;  we've  always  known 
him.  He  and  Gray  used  to  go  camping  in  Maine  and 
he  often  spent  months  in  our  house.  But  for  two 
years  now,  he's  been  comparatively  busy — he's  Mr. 
Portlaw's  manager,  you  know,  and  we've  seen  nothing 
of  him — which  was  quite  agreeable  to  me." 

Hamil  rose,  unquiet.  "  I  thought  you  were  rather 
impressed  by  Shiela,"  continued  the  girl.  I  really  did 
think  so,  Mr.  Hamil." 

"  Your  sister  predicted  that  I'd  lose  my  heart  and 
senses  to  you"  said  Hamil,  laughing  and  reseating  him 
self  beside  her. 

"Have  you?" 

"  Of  course  I  have.     Who  could  help  it?  " 

The  girl  considered  him  smilingly. 

"  You're  the  nicest  of  men,"  she  said.  "  If  you 
hadn't  been  so  busy  I'm  certain  we'd  have  had  a  des 
perate  affair.  But — as  it  is — and  it  makes  me  per 
fectly  furious — I  have  only  the  most  ridiculously  com 
monplace  and  comfortable  affection  for  you — the  sort 
which  prompts  mother  to  send  you  quinine  and  talcum 
powder " 

Balanced  there  side  by  side  they  fell  to  laughing. 

"Sentiment?  Yes,"  she  said;  "but  oh!  it's  the 
kind  that  offers  witch-hazel  and  hot- water  bottles  to 
the  best  beloved!  Mr.  Hamil,  why  can't  we  flirt  com 
fortably  like  sensibly  frivolous  people ! " 

"  I  wish  we  could,  Cecile." 
96 


HANCEUFERING 


"  I  wish  so,  too,  Garret.  No,  that's  too  formal — 
Garry !  There,  that  ends  our  chances !  " 

"  You're  the  j oiliest  family  I  ever  knew,"  he  said. 
"  You  can  scarcely  understand  how  pleasant  it  has  been 
for  me  to  camp  on  the  edges  of  your  fireside  and  feel 
the  home-warmth  a  little — now  and  then " 

"  Why  do  you  remain  so  aloof  then  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  to.  But  my  heart  is  in  this  busi 
ness  of  your  father's — the  more  deeply  in  because  of 
his  kindness — and  your  mother's — and  for  ail  your 
sakes.  You  know  I  can  scarcely  realise  it — I've  been 
with  you  only  a  month,  and  yet  you've  done  so  much 
for  me — received  me  so  simply,  so  cordially — that  the 
friendship  seems  to  be  of  years  instead  of  hours." 

"  That  is  the  trouble,"  sighed  Cecile ;  "  you  and  I 
never  had  a  chance  to  be  frivolous ;  I'm  no  more  self- 
conscious  with  you  than  I  am  with  Gray.  Tell  me, 
why  was  Virginia  Suydam  so  horrid  to  us  at  first?" 

Hamil  reddened.  "  You  mustn't  ask  me  to  criticise 
my  own  kin,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  you  couldn't  do  that.  .  .  .  And 
Miss  Suydam  has  been  more  civil  recently.  It's  a 
mean,  low,  and  suspicious  thing  to  say,  but  I  suppose 
it's  because — but  I  don't  think  I'll  say  it  after  all." 

"  It's  nicer  not  to,"  said  Hamil.  They  both  knew 
perfectly  well  that  Virginia's  advances  were  anything 
but  disinterested.  For,  alas !  even  the  men  of  her 
own  entourage  were  now  gravitating  toward  the 
Cardross  family;  Van  Tassel  Cuyp  was  continually 
wrinkling  his  nose  and  fixing  his  dead-blue  eyes  in  that 
direction;  little  Colonel  Vetchen  circled  busily  round 
and  round  that  centre  of  attraction,  even  Courtlandt 
Classon  evinced  an  inclination  to  toddle  that  way.  Be 
sides  Louis  Malcourt  had  arrived;  arid  Virginia  had 

97 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


never  quite  forgotten  Malcourt  who  had  made  one  at 
a  house  party  in  the  Adirondacks  some  years  since, 
although  even  when  he  again  encountered  her,  Mal 
court  had  retained  no  memory  of  the  slim,  pallid  girl 
who  had  for  a  week  been  his  fellow-guest  at  Portlaw's 
huge  camp  on  Luckless  Lake. 

"  Virginia  Suydam  is  rather  an  isolated  girl,"  said 
Hamil  thoughtfully.  "  She  lives  alone ;  and  it  is  not 
very  gay  for  a  woman  alone  in  the  world ;  not  the  hap 
piest  sort  of  life.  .  .  .  Virginia  has  always  been  very 
friendly  to  me — always.  I  hope  you  will  find  her 
amusing." 

"  I'm  going  to  her  luncheon,"  said  Cecile  calmly. 
"  It's  quite  too  absurd  for  her  to  feel  any  more  doubt 
about  us  socially  than  we  feel  about  her.  That  is  why 
I  am  going.  Shall  we  swim  ?  " 

He  rose;  she  clasped  his  offered  hand  and  sprang 
to  her  feet,  ready  for  the  water  again.  But  at  that 
instant  Malcourt's  dark,  handsome  head  appeared  on 
the  crest  of  a  surge  close  by,  and  the  next  moment 
that  young  gentleman  scrambled  aboard  the  raft, 
breathing  heavily. 

"  Hello,  Cecile !  "  he  gasped ;  "  Hello,  Hamil !  Shiela 
thought  it  must  be  you,  but  I  was  sceptical.  Whew! 
That  isn't  much  of  a  swim;  I  must  be  out  of  con 
dition " 

"  Late  hours,  cards,  and  highballs,"  observed  Cecile 
scornfully.  "  You're  horridly  smooth  and  fat,  Louis." 

Malcourt  turned  to  Hamil. 

"  Glad  to  see  you've  emerged  from  your  shell  at 
last.  The  rumour  is  that  you're  working  too  hard." 

"  There's  no  similar  rumour  concerning  you,"  ob 
served  Cecile,  who  had  never  made  any  pretence  of  lik- 

98 


MAN(EUFERING 


ing  Malcourt.  "  Please  swim  out  to  sea,  if  you've  noth 
ing  more  interesting  to  tell  us.  I've  just  managed  to 
decoy  Mr.  Hamil  here  and  I'd  like  to  converse  with 
him  in  peace." 

Malcourt,  arms  folded,  balanced  himself  easity  on 
the  raft's  pitching  edge  and  glanced  at  her  with  that 
amiably  bored  expression  characteristic  of  him  when 
rebuffed  by  a  woman.  On  such  occasions  his  eyes  re 
sembled  the  half-closed  orbs  of  a  teased  but  patient 
cat ;  and  Cecile  had  once  told  him  so. 

"  There's  a  pretty  rumour  afloat  concerning  your 
last  night's  performance  at  the  Beach  Club,"  said  the 
girl  disdainfully.  "  A  boy  like  you,  making  himself 
conspicuous  by  his  gambling !  " 

Malcourt  winced,  but  as  the  girl  had  apparently 
heard  nothing  to  his  discredit  except  about  his  gam 
bling,  he  ventured  an  intelligent  sidelong  glance  at 
Hamil. 

The  latter  looked  at  him  inquiringly;  Malcourt 
laughed. 

"  You  haven't  been  to  the  Beach  Club  yet,  have 
you,  Hamil?  I'll  get  you  a  card  if  you  like." 

Cecile,  furious,  turned  her  back  and  went  head  first 
into  the  sea. 

"  Come  on,"  said  Hamil  briefly,  and  followed  her. 
Malcourt  took  to  the  water  leisurely,  going  out  of  his 
way  to  jeer  at  and  splash  Portlaw,  who  was  labouring 
like  a  grampus  inshore ;  then  he  circled  within  observa 
tion  distance  of  several  pretty  girls,  displayed  his  qual 
ities  as  a  swimmer  for  their  benefit,  and  finally  struck 
out  shoreward. 

When  he  emerged  from  the  surf  he  looked  about 
for  Shiela.  She  was  already  half-way  to  the  beach, 
walking  with  Cecile  and  Hamil  toward  the  pavilion; 

99 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


and,  starting  across  the  shallows  to  overtake  her,  he 
suddenly  came  face  to  face  with  Virginia  Suydam. 

She  was  moving  hip-deep  out  through  the  seething 
tide,  slim,  graceful,  a  slight  flush  tinting  the  usual  deli 
cate  pallor  of  her  cheeks.  Gussie  Vetchen  bobbed 
nimbly  about  in  the  vicinity,  very  busy  trying  to  look 
at  everybody  and  keep  his  balance  at  the  same  time. 
Miss  Palliser  was  talking  to  Cuyp. 

As  Malcourt  waded  past,  he  and  Miss  Suydam  ex 
changed  a  pleasantly  formal  greeting;  and,  for  the 
second  time,  something  in  her  casual  gaze — the  steadi 
ness  of  her  pretty  green-tinted  eyes,  perhaps — perhaps 
their  singular  colour — interested  him. 

"  You  did  not  ask  me  to  your  luncheon,"  he  said 
gaily,  as  he  passed  her  through  the  foam. 

"  No,  only  petticoats,  Mr.  Malcourt.  I  am  sorry 
that  your — fiancee  isn't  coming." 

Pie  halted,  perfectly  aware  of  the  deliberate  and 
insolent  indiscretion  of  her  reply.  Every  line  of  her 
supple  figure  accented  the  listless,  disdainful  intention. 
As  he  remained  motionless  she  turned,  bent  gracefully 
and  laid  her  palms  flat  on  the  surface  of  the  water, 
then  looked  idly  over  her  shoulder  at  him. 

He  waded  back  close  to  her,  she  watching  him  ad 
vance  without  apparent  interest — but  watching  him 
nevertheless. 

"  Have  you  heard  that  anybody  and  myself  are 
supposed  to  be  engaged?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  she  replied  coolly ;  "  have  you  ?  " 

A  dark  flush  mantled  his  face  and  he  choked. 

For  a  moment  they  stood  so ;  her  brows  were  raised 
a  trifle. 

"Well?"  she  asked  at  last.  "Have  I  made  you 
•eery  angry,  Mr.  Malcourt  ?  "  She  waded  out  a  step  or 

100 


MANEUVERING, 


two  toward  the  surf,  facing  it.-  The  rollers  br 
just  beyond  made  her  foothold  precarious;  twice  she 
nearly  lost  her  balance;  the  third  time  he  caught  her 
hand  to  steady  her  and  held  it  as  they  faced  the  surges, 
swaying  together. 

She  did  not  look  again  at  him.  They  stood  for  a 
while  unsteadily,  her  hand  in  his  grasp. 

"  Why  on  earth  did  you  say  such  a  thing  to  me?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't — know,"  she  said  simply ;  "  I  really  don't, 
Mr.  Malcourt." 

And  it  was  true ;  for  their  slight  acquaintance  war 
ranted  neither  badinage  nor  effrontery;  and  she  did 
not  understand  the  sudden  impulse  toward  provoca 
tion,  unless  it  might  be  her  contempt  for  Shiela  Car- 
dross.  And  that  was  the  doing  of  Mrs.  Van  Dieman. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him,  and  after 
a  moment,  down  at  their  clasped  hands.  "Are  we 
going  to  swim  out,  Mr.  Malcourt? — or  shall  we  con 
tinue  to  pose  as  newly  married  for  the  benefit  of  the 
East  Coast?" 

"  We'll  sit  in  the  sands,"  he  said.  "  We'll  probably 
find  a  lot  of  things  to  say  to  each  other."  But  he 
dropped  her  fingers — gently. 

"  Unless  you  care  to  join  your — care  to  join  Miss 
Cardross." 

Even  while  she  spoke  she  remained  calmly  amazed 
at  the  commonness  of  her  own  speech,  the  astonishing 
surface  streak  of  unsuspected  vulgarity  which  she  was 
naively  exhibiting  to  this  man. 

Vetchen  came  noisily  splashing  up  to  join  them,  but 
he  found  neither  of  them  very  attentive  to  him  as  they 
walked  slowly  to  the  beach  and  up  to  the  dry,  hot 
sand. 

101 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


curloJ  up  >n  the  sand;  Malcourt  extended 
himself  full  length  at  her  feet,  clasped  fingers  support 
ing  his  head,  smooth,  sun-browned  legs  crossed  behind 
him;  and  he  looked  like  a  handsome  and  rather  sulky 
boy  lying  there,  kicking  up  his  heels  insouciantly  or 
stretching  luxuriously  in  the  sun. 

Vetchen,  who  had  followed,  began  an  interminable 
story  on  the  usual  theme  of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Tom 
O'Hara,  illustrating  her  beauty,  her  importance,  and 
the  incidental  importance  of  himself;  and  it  was  with 
profound  surprise  and  deep  offence  that  he  discovered 
that  neither  Malcourt  nor  Miss  Suydam  were  listening. 
Indeed,  in  brief  undertones,  they  had  been  carrying  on 
a  guarded  conversation  of  their  own  all  the  while; 
and  presently  little  Vetchen  took  his  leave  with  a 
hauteur  quite  lost  on  those  who  had  so  unconsciously 
affronted  him. 

"  Of  course  it  is  very  civil  of  you  to  say  you  re 
member  me,"  Virginia  was  saying,  "  but  I  am  perfectly 
aware  you  do  not." 

Malcourt  insisted  that  he  recalled  their  meeting  at 
Portlaw's  Adirondack  camp  on  Luckless  Lake  two 
years  before,  cudgelling  his  brains  at  the  same  time  to 
recollect  seeing  Virginia  there  and  striving  to  remem 
ber  some  corroborative  incident.  But  all  he  could 
really  recall  was  a  young  and  unhappily  married 
woman  to  whom  he  had  made  violent  love — and  it  was 
even  an  effort  for  him  to  remember  her  name. 

"  How  desperately  you  try !  "  observed  Virginia, 
leisurely  constructing  a  little  rampart  of  sand  between 
them.  u  Listen  to  me,  Mr.  Malcourt " — she  raised 
her  eyes,  and  again  the  hint  of  provocation  in  them 
preoccupied  him — "  I  remembered  you,  and  I  have 
sometimes  hoped  we  might  meet  again.  Is  that  amends 

102 


MANOEUFEEING 


for  the  very  bad  taste  I  displayed  in  speaking  of  your 
engagement  before  it  has  been  announced?  " 

"  I  am  not  engaged — to  be  married,"  he  said  de 
liberately. 

She  looked  at  him  steadily,  and  he  sustained  the 
strain  of  the  gaze  in  his  own  untroubled  fashion. 

"  You  are  not  engaged  ?  " 

"  No," 

She  straightened  up,  resting  her  weight  on  one 
bare  arm,  then  leisurely  laid  her  length  on  the  burn 
ing  sands  and,  face  framed  between  her  fingers,  con 
sidered  him  in  silence. 

In  her  attitude,  in  her  very  conversation  with  this 
man  there  was,  for  her,  a  certain  sense  of  abandon 
ment;  a  mental  renouncing  of  all  that  had  hitherto 
characterised  her  in  her  relations  with  an  always  for 
mal  world;  as  though  that  were  necessary  to  meet 
him  on  his  own  level. 

Never  before  had  she  encountered  the  temptation, 
the  opportunity,  or  the  person  where  the  impulse  to 
discard  convention,  conviction,  training,  had  so  irre 
sistibly  presented  itself.  Nor  could  she  understand  it 
now;  yet  she  was  aware,  instinctively,  that  she  was 
on  the  verge  of  the  temptation  and  the  opportunity; 
that  there  existed  a  subtle  something  in  this  man,  in 
herself,  that  tempted  to  conventional  relaxation.  In 
all  her  repressed,  regulated,  and  self-suppressed  career, 
all  that  had  ever  been  in  her  of  latent  daring,  of  fem 
inine  audacity,  of  caprice,  of  perverse  provocation, 
stirred  in  her  now,  quickening  with  the  slightest  accel 
eration  of  her  pulses. 

Apparently  a  man  of  her  own  caste,  yet  she  had 
never  been  so  obscurely  stirred  by  a  man  of  her  own 
caste — had  never  instinctively  divined  in  other  men  the 
8  103 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


streak  which  this  man,  from  the  first  interchange  of 
words,  had  brought  out  in  her. 

Aware  of  his  attraction,  hazily  convinced  that  she 
had  no  confidence  in  him,  the  curious  temptation  per 
sisted  and  grew;  and  she  felt  very  young  and  very 
guilty  like  a  small  child  consenting  to  parley  with 
another  child  whose  society  has  been  forbidden.  And 
it  seemed  to  her  that  somehow  she  had  already  de 
meaned  herself  by  the  tentative  toward  a  common 
understanding  with  an  intellect  and  principles  of  a 
grade  inferior  to  her  own. 

"  That  was  a  very  pretty  woman  you  were  so  de 
voted  to  in  the  Adirondacks,"  she  said. 

He  recalled  the  incident  with  a  pleasant  frankness 
which  left  her  unconvinced. 

Suddenly  it  came  over  her  that  she  had  had  enough 
of  him — more  than  was  good  for  her,  and  she  sat  up 
straight,  primly  retying  her  neckerchief. 

"To-morrow?"  he  was  saying,  too  civilly;  but  on 
her  way  to  the  pavilion  she  could  not  remember  what 
she  had  replied,  or  how  she  had  rid  herself  of  him. 

Inside  the  pavilion  she  saw  Kamil  and  Shiela 
Cardross,  already  dressed,  watching  the  lively  occu 
pants  of  the  swimming-pool;  and  she  exchanged  a 
handshake  with  the  former  and  a  formal  nod  with  the 
latter. 

"  Garret,  your  aunt  is  worrying  because  somebody 
told  her  that  there  arc  snakes  in  the  district  where 
you  are  at  work.  Come  in  some  evening  and  reassure 
her."  And  to  Shiela :  "  So  sorry  you  cannot  come  to 
my  luncheon,  Miss  Cardross. — You  are  Miss  Cardross, 
aren't  you?  I've  been  told  otherwise." 

Hamil  looked  up,  pale  and  astounded;  but  Shiela 
answered,  undisturbed: 

104 


MANEUVERING 


"  My  sister  Cecile  is  the  younger ;  yes,  I  am  Miss 
Cardross." 

And  Hamil  realised  there  had  been  two  ways  -of 
interpreting  Virginia's  question,  and  he  reddened,  sud 
denly  appalled  at  his  own  knowledge  and  at  his  hasty 
and  gross  conclusions. 

If  Shiela  noticed  the  quick  changes  in  his  face  she 
did  not  appear  to,  nor  the  curious  glance  that  Vir 
ginia  cast  at  him. 

"  So  sorry,"  said  Miss  Suydam  again,  "  for  if  you 
are  going  to  be  so  much  engaged  to-day  you  will  no 
doubt  also  miss  the  tea  for  that  pretty  Mrs.  Ascott." 

"  No,"  said  Shiela,  "  I  wouldn't  think  of  missing 
that."  And  carelessly  to  Hamil :  "  As  you  and  I  have 
nothing  on  hand  to-day,  I'll  take  you  over  to  meet 
Mrs.  Ascott  if  you  like." 

Which  was  a  notice  to  Virginia  that  Miss  Car- 
dross  had  declined  her  luncheon  from  deliberate  dis 
inclination. 

Hamil,  vaguely  conscious  that  all  was  not  as  agree 
able  as  the  surface  of  things  indicated,  said  cordially 
that  he'd  be  very  glad  to  go  anywhere  with  Shiela  to 
meet  anybody,  adding  to  Virginia  that  he'd  heard  of 
Mrs.  Ascott  but  could  not  remember  when  or  where. 

"  Probably  you've  heard  of  her  often  enough  from 
Louis  Malcourt,"  said  Virginia.  "  He  and  I  were  just 
recalling  his  frenzied  devotion  to  her-  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks ;  that,"  she  added  smilingly  to  Shiela,  "  was  be 
fore  Mrs.  Ascott  got  her  divorce  from  her  miserable 
little  French  count  and  resumed  her  own  name.  She 
was  the  most  engaging  creature  when  Mr.  Malcourt 
and  I  met  her  two  years  ago." 

Shiela,  who  had  been  listening  with  head  partly 
averted  and  grave  eyes  following  the  antics  of  the 

105 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


divers  in  the  pool,  turned  slowly  and  encountered  Vir 
ginia's  smile  with  a  straight,  cold  gaze  of  utter  dis 
trust. 

Nothing  was  said  for  a  moment;  then  Virginia 
spoke  smilingly  again  to  Hamil  concerning  his  aunt's 
uneasiness,  turned  toward  Shiela,  exchanged  formal 
adieux  with  her,  and  walked  on  toward  her  dressing- 
room  and  shower.  Hamil  and  Miss  Cardross  turned 
the  other  way. 

When  Shiela  was  seated  in  her  double  wheel-chair 
witli  Hamil  beside  her,  she  looked  up  through  her  veil 
unsmiling  into  his  serious  face. 

"  Did  you  notice  anything  particularly  imperti 
nent  in  Miss  Suy  dam's  question  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"What  question?" 

"  When  she  asked  me  whether  I  was  Miss  Car- 
dross." 

The  slow  colour  again  burned  his  bronzed  skin. 
He  made  no  reply,  nor  did  she  await  any  after  a  silent 
consideration  of  his  troubled  face. 

"Where  did  you  hear  about  me?"  she  asked. 

She  had  partly  turned  in  her  seat,  resting  both 
gloved  hands  on  the  crook  of  her  folded  sunshade,  and 
leaning  a  little  toward  him. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  he  said ;  "  whatever  I  heard  I 
heard  unwillingly " 

"You  have  heard?" 

He  did  not  answer. 

The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  passed  in  silence. 
On  the  road  they  met  Mrs.  Cardross  and  Jessie  Car- 
rick  driving  to  a  luncheon ;  later,  Gray  passed  in  his 
motor  with  his  father. 

"  I  have  an  idea  that  you  and  I  are  to  lunch  alone," 
said  Hamil  as  they  reached  the  house;  and  so  it 

106 


MANOEUFERING 


turned  out,  for  Malcourt  was  going  off  with  Port- 
law  somewhere  and  Cecile  was  dressing  for  Virginia's 
luncheon. 

"  Did  you  care  to  go  with  me  to  the  Ascott-O'Hara 
function  ?  "  asked  Shiela,  pausing  on  the  terrace.  Her 
voice  was  listless,  her  face  devoid  of  animation. 

"  I  don't  care  where  I  go  if  I  may  go  with  you," 
he  said,  with  a  new  accent  of  intention  in  his  voice 
which  did  not  escape  her. 

She  went  slowly  up  the  stairs  untying  her  long  veil 
as  she  mounted.  Cecile  in  a  bewildering  hat  and  gown 
emerged  upon  the  terrace  before  Shiela  reappeared,  and 
found  Hamil  perched  upon  the  coquina  balustrade, 
poring  over  a  pocketful  of  blue-prints ;  and  she  said 
yery  sweetly :  "  Good-bye,  my  elder  brother.  Will  you 
promise  to  take  the  best  of  care  of  our  little  sister 
Shiela  while  I'm  away?  " 

"  The  very  best,"  he  said,  sliding  feet  foremost  to 
the  terrace.  "  Heavens,  Cecile,  you  certainly  are  be 
witching  in  those  clothes!" 

"  It  is  what  they  were  built  for,  brother,"  she  said 
serenely.  "  Good-bye ;  we  won't  shake  hands  on  ac 
count  of  my  gloves.  .  .  .  Do  be  .nice  to  Shiela.  She 
isn't  very  gay  these  days — I  don't  know  why.  I  be 
lieve  she  has  rather  missed  you." 

Hamil  tucked  her  into  her  chair,  the  darky  ped 
alled  off;  then  the  young  man  returned  to  the  terrace 
where  presently  a  table  for  two  was  brought  and 
luncheon  announced  as  Shiela  Cardross  appeared. 

Hamil  displayed  the  healthy  and  undiscriminating 
appetite  of  a  man  who  is  too  busy  mentally  and  physic 
ally  to  notice  what  he  eats  and  drinks;  Shiela  touched 
nothing  except  fruit.  She  lighted  his  cigarette  for 
him  before  the  coffee,  and  took  one  herself,  turning  it 

107 


THE  FIRING   LINE 


thoughtfully  over  and  over  between  her  delicately 
shaped  fingers ;  but  at  a  glance  of  inquiry  from  him : 

"  No,  I  don't,"  she  said ;  "  it  burns  my  tongue. 
Besides  I  may  some  day  require  it  as  a  novelty  to  dis 
tract  me — so  I'll  wait." 

She  rose  a  moment  later,  and  stood,  distrait,  look 
ing  out  across  the  sunlit  world.  He  at  her  elbow,  head 
bent,  idly  watched  the  smoke  curling  upward  from  his 
cigarette. 

Presently,  as  though  moved  by  a  common  impulse, 
they  turned  together,  slowly  traversed  the  terrace  and 
the  long  pergola  all  crimson  and  white  with  bougain- 
rillia  and  jasmine,  and  entered  the  jungle  road  beyond 
the  courts  where  carved  seats  of  coquina  glimmered  at 
intervals  along  the  avenue  of  oaks  and  palmettos  and 
where  stone-edged  pools  reflected  the  golden  green 
dusk  of  the  semi-tropical  foliage  above. 

On  the  edge  of  one  of  these  basins  the  girl  seated 
herself;  without  her  hat  arid  gloves  and  in  a  gown 
wliich  exposed  throat  and  neck  she  always  looked 
younger  and  more  slender  to  him,  the  delicate  modelling 
of  the  neck  and  its  whiteness  was  accentuated  by  the 
silky  growth  of  the  brown  hair  which  close  to  the  nape 
and  brow  was  softly  blond  like  a  child's. 

The  frail,  amber-tinted  little  dragon-flies  of  the 
South  came  hovering  over  the  lotus  bloom  that  edged 
the  basin ;  long,  narrow-shaped  butterflies  whose  vel 
vet-black  wings  were  barred  with  brilliant  stripes  of 
canary  yellow  fluttered  across  the  forest  aisle ;  now 
and  then  a  giant  papilio  sailed  high  under  the  arched 
foliage  on  tiger-striped  wings  of  chrome  and  black,  or 
a  superb  butterfly  in  pearl  white  and  malachite  green 
came  flitting  about  the  sparkle-berry  bloom. 

The  girl  nodded  toward  it.  "  That  is  a  scarce  but- 
108 


MANEUVERING 


terfly  here,"  she  said.  "  Gray  would  be  excited.  I 
wish  we  had  his  net  here." 

"  It  is  the  Victorina,  isn't  it?  "  he  asked,  watching 
the  handsome,  nervous-winged  creature  which  did  not 
seem  inclined  to  settle  on  the  white  flowers. 

"  Yes,  the  Victorlna  stenetes.  Are  you  inter 
ested? " 

"  The  generation  I  grew  up  with  collected,"  he 
said.  "  I  remember  my  cabinet,  and  some  of  the  names. 
But  I  never  saw  any  fellows  of  this  sort  in  the  North." 

"  Your  memory  is  good?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  for  what  I  care  about  "—he 
looked  up  at  her — "  for  those  I  care  about  my  memory 
is  good.  I  never  forget  kindness — nor  confidence  given 
— nor  a  fault  forgiven." 

She  bent  forward,  elbows  on  knees,  chin  propped 
on  both  linked  hands. 

"  Do  you  understand  now,"  she  said,  "  why  I  could 
not  afford  the  informality  of  our  first  meeting?  What 
you  have  heard  about  me  explains  why  I  can  scarcely 
afford  to  discard  convention,  docs  it  not,  Mr.  Hamil?  " 

She  went  on,  her  white  fingers  now  framing  her 
face  and  softly  indenting  the  flushed  skin: 

"  I  don't  know  who  has  talked  to  you,  or  what  you 
have  heard;  but  I  knew  by  your  expression — there  at 
the  swimming-pool — that  you  had  heard  enough  to  em 
barrass  you  and — and  hurt  me  very,  very  keenly." 

"  Calypso !  "  he  broke  out  impulsively ;  but  she  shook 
her  head.  "  Let  me  tell  you  if  it  must  be  told,  Mr. 
Hamil.  .  .  .  Father  and  mother  are  dreadfully  sensi 
tive  ;  I  have  only  known  about  it  for  two  years ;  two 
years  ago  they  told  me — had  to  tell  me.  .  .  .  Well — 
it  still  seems  hazy  and  incredible.  ...  I  was  educated 
in  a  French  convent — if  you  know  what  that  means. 

109 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


All  my  life  I  have  been  guarded — sheltered  from  knowl 
edge  of  evil;  I  am  still  unprepared  to  comprehend — 
.  .  .  And  I  am  still  very  ignorant;  I  know  that.  .  .  . 
So  you  see  how  it  was  with  me ;  a  girl  awakened  to 
such  self-knowledge  cannot  grasp  it  entirely — cannot 
wholly  convince  herself  except  at  moments — at  night. 
Sometimes — when  a  crisis  threatens — and  one  has  lain 
awake  long  in  the  dark " 

She  gathered  her  knees  in  her  arms  and  stared  at 
the  patch  of  sunlight  that  lay  across  the  hem  of  her 
gown,  leaving  her  feet  shod  in  gold. 

"  I  don't  know  how  much  difference  it  really  makes 
to  the  world.  I  suppose  I  shall  learn — if  people  are 
to  discuss  me.  How  much  difference  does  it  make,  Mr. 
Hamil?" 

"  It  makes  none  to  me " 

"  The  world  extends  beyond  your  pleasant  comrade 
ship,"  she  said.  "  How  does  the  world  regard  a  woman 
of  no  origin — whose  very  name  is  a  charity " 

"Shiela!" 

"W-what?"  she  said,  trying  to  srnile;  and  then 
slowly  laid  her  head  in  her  hands,  covering  her  face. 

She  had  given  way,  very  silently,  for  as  he  bent 
close  to  her  he  felt  the  tearful  aroma  of  her  uneven 
breath — the  feverish  flush  on  cheek  and  hand,  the  almost 
imperceptible  tremor  of  her  slender  body — rather  close 
to  him  now. 

When  she  had  regained  her  composure,  and  her  voice 
was  under  command,  she  straightened  up,  face  averted. 

"  You  are  quite  perfect,  Mr.  Hamil ;  you  have  not 
hurt  me  with  one  misguided  and  well-intended  word. 
That  is  exactly  as  it  should  be  between  us — must  al 
ways  be." 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  slowly. 
110 


MANEUVERING 


She  nodded,  still  looking  away  from  him.  **  Let  us 
each  enjoy  our  own  griefs  unmolested.  You  have 
yours?  " 

"  No,  Shiela,  I  haven't  any  griefs." 

"  Come  to  me  when  you  have ;  I  shall  not  humiliate 
you  with  words  to  shame  your  intelligence  and  my  own. 
If  you  suffer  you  suffer ;  but  it  is  well  to  be  near  a 
friend — not  too  near,  Mr.  Hamil." 

"  Not  too  near,"  he  repeated. 

"  No ;  that  is  unendurable.  The  counter-irritant  to 
grief  is  sanity,  not  emotion.  When  a  woman  is  a  little 
frightened  the  presence  of  the  unafraid  is  what  steadies 
her." 

She  looked  over  her  shoulder  into  the  water,  reached 
down,  broke  off  a  blossom  of  wild  hyacinth,  and,  turn 
ing,  drew  it  through  the  button-hole  of  his  coat. 

"  You  certainly  are  very  sweet  to  me,"  she  said 
quietly.  And,  laughing  a  little :  "  The  entire  family 
adores  you  with  pills — and  I've  now  decorated  you  with 
the  lovely  curse  of  our  Southern  rivers.  But — there  are 
no  such  things  as  weeds;  a  weed  is  only  a  miracle  in 
the  wrong  place.  .  .  .  Well — shall  we  walk  and  moralise 
or  remain  here  and  make  cat-cradle  conversation?  .  .  . 
You  are  looking  at  me  very  solemnly." 

"  I  was  thinking " 

"What?" 

"  That,  perhaps,  I  never  before  knew  a  girl  as  well 
as  I  know  you." 

"  Not  even  Miss  Suydam  ?  " 

"  Lord,  no !  I  never  dreamed  of  knowing  her — I 
mean  her  real  self.  You  understand,  she  and  I  have 
always  taken  each  other  for  granted — never  with  any 
genuine  intimacy." 

"  Oh !     And — -this — ours — is  genuine  intimacy  ?  " 
111 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"Is  it  not?" 

For  a  moment  her  teeth  worried  the  bright  velvet  of 
her  lip,  then  meeting  his  gaze: 

"  I  mean  to  be — honest — with  you,"  she  said  with 
a  tremor  in  her  voice;  but  her  regard  wavered  under 
his.  "  I  mean  to  be,"  she  repeated  so  low  he  scarcely 
heard  her.  Then  with  a  sudden  animation  a  little 
strained :  "  When  this  winter  has  become  a  memory  let 
it  be  a  happy  one  for  you  and  me.  And  by  the  same 
token  you  and  I  had  better  think  about  dressing.  You 
don't  mind,  do  you,  if  I  take  you  to  meet  Mrs.  Ascott? 
— she  was  Countess  de  Caldelis ;  it's  taken  her  years  to 
secure  her  divorce." 

Hamil  remembered  the  little  dough-faced,  shrimp- 
limbed  count  when  he  first  came  over  with  the  object  of 
permitting  somebody  to  support  him  indefinitely  so  that 
later,  in  France,  he  could  in  turn  support  his  mistresses 
in  the  style  to  which  they  earnestly  desired  to  become 
accustomed. 

And  now  the  American  girl  who  had  been  a  countess 
was  back,  a  little  wiser,  a  little  harder,  and  more  cynical, 
with  some  of  the  bloom  rubbed  off,  yet  much  of  her 
superficial  beauty  remaining. 

"  Alida  Ascott,"  murmured  Shiela.  "  Jessie  was  a 
bridesmaid.  Poor  little  girl! — Tni  glad  she's  free. 
There  were  no  children,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  Hamil ; 
"  in  that  case  a  decent  girl  is  justified !  Don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  said,  smiling ;  "  I'm  not  one  of  those 
who  believe  that  such  separations  tlireaten  us  with  so 
cial  disintegration." 

"  Nor  I.  Almost  every  normal  woman  desires  to  live 
decently.  She  has  a  right  to.  All  young  girls  are 
ignorant.  If  they  begin  with  a  dreadful  but  innocent 


MANEUVERING 


mistake  does  the  safety  of  society  require  of  them  the 
horror  of  lifelong  degradation?  Then  the  safety  of 
such  a  society  is  not  worth  the  sacrifice.  That  is  my 
opinion." 

"  That  settles  a  long-vexed  problem,"  he  said, 
laughing  at  her  earnestness. 

But  she  looked  at  him,  unsmiling,  while  he  spoke, 
hands  clasped  in  her  lap,  the  fingers  twisting  and  tight 
ening  till  the  rose-tinted  nails  whitened. 

Men  have  only  a  vague  idea  of  women's  ignorance; 
how  naturally  they  are  inclined  to  respond  to  a  man; 
how  the  dominating  egotism  of  a  man  and  his  confident 
professions  and  his  demands  confuse  them;  how  deeply 
his  appeals  for  his  own  happiness  stir  them  to  pity. 
.  .  .  They  have  heard  of  love — and  they  do  not  know. 
If  they  ever  dream  of  it  it  is  not  what  they  have  imag 
ined  when  a  man  suddenly  comes  crashing  through  the 
barriers  of  friendship  and  stuns  them  with  an  incoherent 
recital  of  his  own  desires.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  the 
shock,  it  is  with  them  instinctive  to  be  kind.  No  woman 
can  endure  an  appeal  unmoved;  except  for  them  there 
would  be  no  beggars ;  their  charity  is  not  a  creed :  it  is 
the  essence  of  them,  the  beginning  of  all  things  for 
them — and  the  end. 

The  bantering  smile  had  died  out  in  Hamil's  face; 
he  sat  very  still,  interested,  disturbed,  and  then  wonder 
ing  when  his  eyes  caught  the  restless  manoeuvres  of  the 
little  hands,  constantly  in  motion,  interlacing,  eloquent 
of  the  tension  of  self-suppression. 

He  thought :  6i  It  is  a  cowardly  thing  for  an  egotist 
with  an  egotist's  early  and  lively  knowledge  of  the 

113 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


world  and  of  himself  to  come  clamouring  to  a  girl  for 
charity.  It  is  true  that  almost  any  man  can  make  a 
young  girl  think  she  loves  him  if  he  is  selfish  enough 
to  do  it.  Is  her  ignorance  a  fault?  All  her  training 
deprecates  any  acquisition  of  worldly  knowledge:  it  is 
not  for  her :  her  value  is  in  her  ignorance.  Then  when 
she  naturally  makes  some  revolting  mistake  and  at 
tempts  to  escape  to  decency  and  freedom  once  more 
there  is  a  hue  and  a  cry  from  good  folk  and  clergy. 
Divorce?  It  is  a  good  thing — as  the  last  resort.  And 
a  woman  need  feel  no  responsibility  for  the  sort  of 
society  that  would  deprive  a  woman  of  the  last  refuge 
she  has ! " 

He  raised  his  eyes,  curiously,  in  time  to  intercept 
hers. 

"  So — you  did  not  'know  me  after  all,  it  seems,"  she 
said  with  a  faint  smile.  "  You  never  suspected  in  me 
a  Vierge  Rouge,  militant,  champion  of  her  downtrodden 
sex,  haranguing  whomsoever  would  pay  her  the  fee  of 
his  attention.  Did  you  ?  " 

And  as  he  made  no  reply :  "  Your  inference  is 
that  I  have  had  some  unhappy  love  affair — some 
perilously  close  escape  from — unhappy  matrimony." 
She  shrugged.  "  As  though  a  girl  could  plead  only  a 
cause  which  concerned  herself.  .  .  .  Tell  me  what  you 
are  thinking?  " 

She  had  risen,  and  he  stood  up  before  her,  fascinated. 

"Tell  me!"  she  insisted;  "I  shall  not  let  you  go 
until  you  do !  " 

**  I  was  thinking  about  you." 

"  Please  don't!  .  .  .  Are  you  doing  it  yet?"  closely 
confronting  him,  hands  behind  her. 

"  Yes,  I  am/'  he  said,  unable  to  keep  his  eyes  from 
her,  all  her  beauty  and  youth  and  freshness  troubling 


MANCEUFERING 


him,  closing  in  upon  him  like  subtle  fragrance  in  the 
golden  forest  dusk. 

"  Are  you  still  thinking  about  me  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

The  rare  sweet  laughter  edged  her  lips,  for  an  in 
stant;  then  something  in  his  eyes  checked  her.  Colour 
and  laughter  died  out,  leaving  a  pale  confused  smile; 
and  the  straight  gaze  wavered,  grew  less  direct,  yet  lost 
not  a  shade  of  his  expression  which  also  had  changed. 

Neither  spoke;  and  after  a,  moment  they  turned 
away,  walking  not  very  near  together  toward  the  house. 

The  sunshine  and  the  open  somehow  brought  relief 
and  the  delicate  constraint  between  them  relaxed  as  they 
sauntered  slowly  into  the  house  where  Shiela  presently 
went  away  to  dress  for  the  Ascott  function,  and  Hamil 
sat  down  on  the  reranda  for  a  while,  then  retired  io 
undertake  the  embellishment  of  his  own  person. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    INVASION 

THEY  went  together  in  a  double  chair,  spinning 
noiselessly  over  the  shell  road  which  wound  through 
oleander  and  hibiscus  hedges.  Great  orange  and  sul 
phur-tinted  butterflies  kept  pace  with  them  as  they  trav 
elled  swiftly  southward ;  the  long,  slim  shadows  of  palms 
gridironed  the  sunny  road,  for  the  sun  was  in  the  west, 
and  already  a  bird  here  and  there  had  ventured  on  a 
note  or  two  as  prelude  to  the  evening  song,  and  over 
the  ocean  wild  ducks  were  rising  in  clouds,  swinging  and 
drifting  and  settling  again  as  though  in  short  rehearsal 
for  their  sunset  flight. 

"  Your  hostess  is  Mrs.  Tom  O'Hara,"  said  the  girl ; 
"  when  you  have  enough  of  it  look  at  me  and  I'll  un 
derstand.  And  if  you  try  to  hide  in  a  corner  with 
some  soulful  girl  I'll  look  at  you — if  it  bores  me  too 
much.  So  don't  sit  still  with  an  infatuated  smile,  as 
Cecile  does,  when  she  sees  that  I  wish  to  make  my 
adieux." 

"  Pm  so  likely  to,"  he  said,  "  when  escape  means 
that  I'll  have  3^ou  to  myself  again." 

There  was  a  trifle  more  significance  in  the  uncon- 
sidered  speech  than  he  had  intended.  The  girl  looked 
absently  straight  in  front  of  her :  he  sat  motionless,  un 
comfortable  at  his  own  words,  but  too  wise  to  attempt  to 
modify  them  by  more  words. 

116 


THE   INVASION 


Other  chairs  passed  them  now  along  the  road — there 
were  nods  of  recognition,  gay  salutes,  an  intimate  word 
or  two  as  the  light-wheeled  vehicles  flashed  past;  and 
in  a  moment  more  the  tall  coquina  gate  posts  and  iron 
grille  of  Mrs.  Tom  O'Hara's  villa,  Tsana  Lahni,  glim 
mered  under  an  avenue  of  superb  royal  palms. 

The  avenue  was  crowded  with  the  slender-wheeled 
basket-bodied  chairs  gay  with  the  plumage  of  pretty 
women;  the  scene  on  the  lawns  beyond  was  charming 
where  an  orange  and  white  pavilion  was  pitched  against 
the  intense  green  of  the  foliage,  and  the  pelouse  was 
all  dotted  and  streaked  with  vivid  colours  of  sunshades 
and  gowns. 

"  Ulysses  among  the  sirens,"  she  whispered  as  they 
made  their  way  toward  their  hostess,  exchanging  recog 
nition  with  people  everywhere  in  the  throngs.  "  Here 
they  are — all  of  them — and  there's  Miss  Suydam. — too 
unconscious  of  us.  How  hath  the  House  of  Hamil 
fallen ! " 

"  If  you  talk  that  way  I  won't  leave  you  for  one 
second  while  we're  here !  "  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"  Nonsense ;  it  only  hurts  me,  not  my  pride.  And 
half  a  cup  of  unforbidden  tea  will  drown  the  memory  of 
that  insolence " 

She  bent  forward  with  smiling  composure  to  shake 
hands  with  Mrs.  Tom  O'Hara,  a  tall,  olive-tinted,  black- 
haired  beauty ;  presented  Hamil  to  his  hostess,  and  left 
him  planted,  to  exchange  impulsive  amenities  with  little 
Mrs.  Ascott. 

Mrs.  Tom  O'Hara,  a  delicate  living  Gainsborough  in 
black  and  white,  was  probably  the  handsomest  woman 
in  the  South.  She  dressed  with  that  perfection  of  sim 
plicity  which  only  a  few  can  afford;  she  wore  only  a 
single  jewel  at  a  time,  but  the  gem  was  always  matchless. 

117 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Warm-hearted,  generous,  and  restless,  she  loved  the 
character  of  Lady  Bountiful ;  and,  naively  convinced  of 
her  own  unassailable  supremacy,  played  very  pictu 
resquely  the  role  of  graciousness  and  patronage  to  the 
tenants  of  her  great  estates  and  of  her  social  and  intel 
lectual  world  alike.  Hence,  although  she  went  where 
many  of  her  less  fashionable  guests  might  not  have  been 
asked  to  go,  she  herself  paid  self-confident  homage  to 
intellect  as  she  understood  it,  and  in  her  own  house  her 
entourage  was  as  mixed  as  her  notions  of  a  "  salon  " 
permitted. 

She  was  gracious  to  Hamil  on  account  of  his  aunt, 
his  profession,  and  himself.  Also  her  instinct  was  to  be 
nice  to  everybody.  As  hostess  she  had  but  a  moment 
to  accord  him,  but  during  that  moment  she  contrived 
to  speak  reassuringly  of  the  Suydam  genealogy,  the  art 
of  landscape  architecture,  and  impart  a  little  special 
knowledge  from  her  inexhaustible  reserve,  informing 
him  that  the  name  of  her  villa,  Tsa-na  Lah-ni,  was 
Seminole,  and  meant  "  Yellow  Butterfly."  And  then  she 
passed  him  sweetly  along  into  a  crush  of  bright-eyed 
young  things  who  attempted  to  pour  tea  into  him  and 
be  agreeable  in  various  artless  ways;  and  presently  he 
found  himself  in  a  back-water  where  fashion  and  intel 
lect  were  conscientiously  doing  their  best  to  mix.  But 
the  mixture  was  a  thin  solution — thinner  than  Swizzles 
and  Caravan,  and  the  experience  of  the  very  young 
girl  beside  him  wrho  talked  herself  out  in  thirty  seconds 
from  pure  nervousness  and  remained  eternally  grateful 
to  him  for  giving  her  a  kindly  opportunity  to  escape 
to  cover  among  the  feather-brained  and  frivolous. 

Then,  close  to  him,  a  girl  spoke  of  the  "  purple  per 
fume  of  petunias,"  and  a  man  used  the  phrases,  "  body 
politic,"  and  "  the  gaiety  of  nations." 

118 


THE   INVASION 


So  he  knew  he  was  among  the  elect,  redundant,  and 
truly  precious.  A  chinless  young  man  turned  to  him 
and  said: 

"  There  is  nobody  to-day  who  writes  as  Bernard 
Haw  writes." 

"  Does  anybody  want  to?  "  asked  Hamil  pleasantly. 

"  You  mean  that  this  is  an  age  of  trumpery  ro 
mance?  "  demanded  a  heavy  gentleman  in  dull  disdain. 
"  William  Dean  has  erased  all  romance  from  modern  life 
with  one  smear  of  his  honest  thumb  !  " 

"  The  honest  thumb  that  persistently  and  patiently 
rubs  the  scales  from  sapphire  and  golden  wings  in  order 
to  be  certain  that  the  vination  of  the  Ornithoptera  is 
still  underneath,  is  not  the  digit  of  inspiration,5'  sug 
gested  Hamil. 

The  disciple  turned  a  dull  brick-colour ;  but  he  be 
trayed  neither  his  master  nor  himself. 

"  What,  in  God's  name,"  he  asked  heavily,  "  is  an 
ornithoptera  ?  " 

A  very  thin  author,  who  had  been  listening  and 
twisting  himself  into  a  number  of  shapes,  thrust  his 
neck  forward  into  the  arena  and  considered  Hamil  with 
the  pale  grimace  of  challenge. 

"  Henry  Haynes  ?  "  he  inquired — "  your  apprecia 
tion  in  one  phrase,  Mr.  Hamil." 

"  In  a  Henry  Haynes  phrase?  "  asked  Hamil  good- 
humouredly. 

"The  same  old  calumny?"  said  the  thin  author, 
writliing  almost  off  his  chair. 

"  I'm  afraid  so ;  and  the  remedy  a  daily  dose  of 
verbifuge — until  he  gets  back  to  the  suffocated  fount  of 
inspiration.  I  am  very  sorry  if  I  seem  to  differ  from 
everybody,  but  ever}rbody  seems  to  differ  from  ice,  so 
I  can't  help  it," 

9  119 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


A  Swami,  unctuous  and  fat,  and  furious  at  the  lack 
of  feminine  attention,  said  something  suavely  outrageous 
about  modern  women.  He  was  immediately  surrounded 
by  several  mature  examples  who  adored  to  be  safely  smit 
ten  by  the  gelatinous  and  esoteric. 

A  little  flabby,  featureless,  but  very  fashionable 
portrait  painter  muttered  to  Hamil :  "  Orient  and  Occi 
dent  !  the  molluskular  and  the  muscular.  Mr.  Hamil,  do 
you  realise  what  the  Occident  is  ?  " 

"  Geographically  ?  "  inquired  Hamil  wearily. 

"  No,  symbolically.  It  is  that ! "  explained  the 
painter,  doubling  his  meagre  biceps  and  punching  at  the 
infinite  with  a  flattened  thumb.  "  That,"  he  repeated, 
u  is  America.  Do  you  comprehend?  " 

The  wan  young  girl  who  had  spoken  of  the  purple 
perfume  of  petunias  said  that  she  understood.  It 
may  be  that  she  did;  she  reviewed  literature  for  the 
Tribune. 

Harried  and  restless,  Hamil  looked  for  Shiela  and 
saw  Portlaw,  very  hot  and  uncomfortable  in  his  best 
raiment,  shooting  his  cuffs  and  looking  dully  about  for 
some  avenue  of  escape;  and  Hamil,  exasperated  with 
purple  perfumes  and  thumbs,  meanly  snared  him  and 
left  him  to  confront  a  rather  ample  and  demonstrative 
young  girl  who  believed  that  all  human  thought  was 
precious — even  sinful  thought — of  which  she  knew  as 
much  as  a  newly  hatched  caterpillar.  However,  Portlaw 
was  able  to  enlighten  her  if  he  cared  to. 

Again  and  again  Hamil,  wandering  in  circles,  looked 
across  the  wilderness  of  women's  hats  at  Shiela  Cardross, 
but  a  dozen  men  surrounded  her,  and  among  them  he 
noticed  the  graceful  figure  of  Malcourt  directly  in  front 
of  her,  blocking  any  signal  he  might  have  given. 

Somebody  was  saying  sometliing  about  Mrs.  Ascott. 
120 


THE   INVASION 


He  recollected  that  he  hadn't  met  her ;  so  he  found  some 
body  to  present  him. 

"  And  you  are  the  man  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ascott 
softly,  considering  him  with  her  head  on  one  side. 
u  Shiela  Cardross  wrote  to  me  in  New  York  about  you, 
but  I've  wanted  to  inspect  you  for  my  own  informa 
tion." 

"Are  you  doing  it  now?"  he  asked,  amused. 

"  It's  done !  Do  you  imagine  you  are  complex  ? 
I've  heard  various  tales  about  you  from  three  sources, 
to-day ;  from  an  old  friend,  Louis  Malcourt — from  an 
other,  Virginia  Suydam — and  steadily  during  the  last 
month — including  to-day — from  Shiela  Cardross.  But 
I  couldn't  find  a  true  verdict  until  the  accused  appeared 
personally  before  me.  Tell  me,  Mr.  Hamil,  do  you  plead 
guilty  to  being  as  amiable  as  the  somewhat  contradic 
tory  evidence  indicates  ?  " 

"  Parole  me  in  custody  of  this  court  and  let  me  con 
vince  your  Honor,"  said  Hamil,  looking  into  the  cap- 
tivatingly  cool  and  humourous  face  upturned  to  his. 

Mrs.  Ascott  was  small,  and  finely  moulded ;  something 
of  the  miniature  grande  dame  in  porcelain.  The  poise 
of  her  head,  the  lifted  chin,  every  detail  in  the  polished 
and  delicately  tinted  surface  reflected  cool  experience  of 
the  world  and  of  men.  Yet  the  eyes  were  young,  and 
there  was  no  hardness  in  them,  and  the  mouth  seemed 
curiously  unfashioned  for  worldly  badinage — a  very 
wistful,  full-lipped  mouth  that  must  have  been  disci 
plined  in  some  sad  school  to  lose  its  cheerfulness  in 
repose. 

"  I  am  wondering,"  she  said,  "  why  Mr.  Portlaw  does 
not  come  and  talk  to  me.  We  are  neighbors  in  the  coun 
try,  you  know ;  I  live  at  Pride's  Fall.  I  don't  think  it's 
particularly  civil  of  him  to  avoid  me." 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  I  can't  imagine  anybody,  including  Portlaw,  avoid 
ing  you,*5  he  said. 

"  We  were  such  good  friends — I  don't  know — he  be 
haved  very  badly  to  me  last  autumn." 

They  chatted  together  for  a  moment  or  two  in  the 
same  inconsequential  vein,  then,  other  people  being  pre 
sented,  she  nodded  an  amiable  dismissal;  and,  as  he 
stepped  aside,  held  out  her  hand. 

"  There  are  a  lot  of  tilings  I'd  like  to  ask  you  some 
!day ;  one  is  about  a  park  for  me  at  Pride's  Fall — oh,  the 
tiniest  sort  of  a  park,  only  it  should  be  quite  formal  in 
all  its  miniature  details.  Will  you  let  Shiela  bring  you 
for  a  little  conference?  Soon?  " 

He  promised  and  took  his  leave,  elated  at  the  chances 
of  a  new  commission,  hunting  through  the  constantly 
arriving  and  departing  throngs  for  Shiela.  And  pres 
ently  he  encountered  his  aunt. 

"  You  certainly  do  neglect  me,"  she  said  with  her  en 
gaging  and  care-free  laugh.  "  Where  have  you  been 
for  a  week?  " 

'  In  the  flat-woods.    And,  by  the  way,  don't  worry 
about  any  snakes.    Virginia  said  you  were  anxious." 

65  Nonsense,"  said  his  aunt,  amused,  "  Virginia  is 
trying  to  plague  you!  I  said  nothing  about  snakes 
to  her." 

"  Didn't  you  say  there  were  snakes  in  my  district?  " 

"  No.  I  did  say  there  were  girls  in  your  district, 
but  it  didn't  worry  me." 

His  face  was  so  serious  that  the  smile  died  out  on  her 
own. 

"  Why,  Garret,"  she  said,  "  surely  you  are  not  of 
fended,  are  you?  " 

"  Not  with  you — Virginia  has  apparently  taken  her 
cue  from  that  unspeakable  Mrs.  Van  Dieman,  and  is 


THE   INVASION 


acting  like  the  deuce  toward  Shiela  Cardross.  Couldn't 
you  find  an  opportunity  to  discourage  that  sort  of  be 
haviour?  It's  astonishingly  underbred." 

His  aunt's  eyelids  flickered  as  she  regarded  him. 

"  Come  to  see  me  to-night  and  explain  a  little  more 
fully  what  Virginia  has  done,  dear.  Colonel  Vetchen  is 
hunting  for  me  and  I'm  going  to  let  him  find  me  now. 
Why  don't  you  come  back  with  us  if  you  are  not  looking 
for  anybody  in  particular." 

"  I'm  looking  for  Shiela  Cardross,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  she's  over  there  on  the  terrace  holding  her  fas 
cinating  court — with  Louis  Malcourt  at  her  heels  a* 
usual." 

"  I  didn't  know  that  Malcourt  was  usually  at  her 
heels,"  he  said  almost  irritably.  It  was  the  second  time 
he  had  heard  that  comment,  and  he  found  it  unaccount 
ably  distasteful. 

His  aunt  looked  up,  smiling. 

"  Can't  we  dine  together,  Garry?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  " — faintly  ironical.  "  So  now  if 
you'll  go  I'll  reveal  myself  to  Gussie  Vetchen.  Stand 
aside,  my  condescending  friend." 

He  said,  smiling :  "  You're  the  prettiest  revelation 
here.  I'll  be  at  the  hotel  at  eight." 

And  with  that  they  parted  just  as  the  happy  little 
Vetchen,  catching  sight  of  them,  came  bustling  up  with 
all  the  fuss  and  demonstration  of  a  long-lost  terrier. 

A  few  minutes  later  Hamil  found  Shiela  Cardross 
surrounded  by  her  inevitable  entourage — a  jolly,  ani 
mated  circle  hemming  her  in  with  Malcourt  at  her  left 
and  Van  Tassel  Cuyp  on  her  right ;  and  he  halted  on  the 
circle's  edge  to  look  and  listen,  glancing  askance  at  Mal 
court  with  a  curiosity  unaccustomed. 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


That  young  man  with  his  well-made  graceful  figure, 
his  dark  hair  and  vivid  tints,  had  never  particularly  im 
pressed  HamiL  He  had  accepted  him  at  his  face  value, 
lacking  the  interest  to  appraise  him ;  and  the  acquaint 
ance  had  always  been  as  casual  and  agreeable  as  mutual 
good-humour  permitted.  But  now  Malcourt,  as  a  type, 
attracted  his  attention ;  and  for  a  moment  he  contrasted 
this  rather  florid  example  with  the  specimens  of  young 
men  around  him.  Then  he  looked  at  Shiela  Cardross. 
Her  delicately  noble  head  was  bent  a  trifle  as  she  lis 
tened  with  the  others  to  Malcourt's  fluent  humour;  and  it 
remained  so,  though  at  moments  she  lifted  her  eyes  in 
that  straight,  questioning  gaze  which  left  the  brows 
level. 

And  now  she  was  replying  to  Malcourt, ;  and  Hamil 
watched  her  and  listened  to  her  with  newer  interest,  not 
ing  the  poise,  the  subtle  reserve  under  the  gayest  provo 
cation  of  badinage — the  melody  of  her  rare  laughter, 
the  unaffected  sweetness  of  her  voice,  and  its  satisfying 
sincerity — satisfying  as  the  clear  regard  from  her  lifted 
eyes. 

Small  wonder  men  were  attracted;  Hamil  could  un 
derstand  what  drew  them — the  instinctive  recognition  of 
a  fibre  finer  and  a  metal  purer  than  was  often  found 
under  the  surface  of  such  loveliness. 

And  now,  as  he  watched  «her,  the  merriment  broke 
out  again  around  her,  and  she  laughed,  lifting  her  face 
to  his  in  all  its  youthfully  bewildering  beauty,  and  saw 
him  standing  near  her  for  the  first  time. 

Without  apparent  reason  a  dull  colour  rose  to  his 
face ;  and,  as  though  answering  fire  with  fire,  her  fainter 
signal  in  response  tinted  lip  and  cheek. 

It  was  scarcely  the  signal  agreed  upon  for  their  de 
parture;  and  for  a  moment  longer,  amid  the  laughing 


THE   INVASION 


tumult,  she  sat  looking  at  him  as  though  confused.  Mai- 
court  bent  forward  saying  something  to  her,  but  she 
rose  while  he  was  speaking,  as  though  she  had  not 
heard  him ;  and  Hamil  walked  through  the  circle  to  where 
she  stood.  A  number  of  very  young  men  looked  around 
at  him  with  hostile  eyes  ;  Malcourt's  brows  lifted  a  trifle ; 
then  he  shot  an  ironical  glance  at  Shiela  and,  as  the  circle 
about  her  disintegrated,  sauntered  up,  bland,  debonair, 
to  accept  his  conge. 

His  bow,  a  shade  exaggerated,  and  the  narrowed 
mockery  of  his  eyes  escaped  her ;  and  even  what  he  said 
made  no  impression  as  she  stood,  brightly  inattentive, 
looking  across  the  little  throng  at  Hamil.  And  Mai- 
court's  smile  became  flickering  and  uncertain  when  she 
left  the  terrace  with  Hamil,  moving  very  slowly  side  by 
side  across  the  lawn. 

"  Such  lots  of  pretty  women,"  commented  Shiela. 
"  Have  you  been  passably  amused  ?  " 

"  Passably,"  he  replied  in  a  slightly  sullen  tone. 

"  Oh,  only  passably  ?  I  rather  hoped  that  unawak- 
ened  heart  of  yours  might  be  aroused  to-day." 

"  It  has  been." 

"  Not  Mrs.  Ascott !  "  she  exclaimed,  halting. 

"  Not  Mrs.  Ascott." 

"  Mrs.  Tom  O'Hara!  Is  it?  Every  man  promptly 
goes  to  smash  when  Mrs.  Tom  looks  sideways." 

"  O  Lord !  "  he  said  with  a  shrug. 

"  That  is  not  nice  of  you,  Mr.  Hamil.  If  it  is  not 
with  her  you  have  fallen  in  love  there  is  a  more  civil  way 
of  denying  it." 

"  Did  you  take  what  I  said  seriously?  "  he  asked — 
"  about  falling  in  love?  " 

"  Were  you  not  serious?  " 

"  I  could  be  if  you  were,"  he  said  in  a  tone  which 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


slightly  startled  her.  She  looked  up  at  him  question- 
ingij ;  he  said : 

"  I've  had  a  stupid  time  without  you.  The  little 
I've  seen  of  you  has  spoiled  other  women  for  me.  Arid 
I've  just  found  it  out.  Do  you  mind  my  saying  so?  " 

"  Are  you  not  a  little  over-emphatic  in  your  loyalty 
to  me?  I  like  it,  but  not  at  the  expense  of  others, 
please." 

They  moved  on  together,  slowly  and  in  step.  His 
head  was  bent,  face  sullen  and  uncomfortably  flushed. 
Again  she  felt  the  curiously  unaccountable  glow  in  her 
own  cheeks  responding  in  pink  fire  once  more ;  and  an 
noyed  and  confused  she  halted  and  looked  up  at  him 
with  that  frank  confidence  characteristic  of  her. 

"  Something  has  gone  wrong,"  she  said.    "  Tell  me." 

"  I  will.  I'm  telling  myself  now."  She  laughed, 
stole  a  glance  at  him,  then  her  face  fell. 

"  I  certainly  don't  know  what  you  mean,  and  I'm 
not  very  sure  that  you  know." 

She  was  right;  he  did  not  yet  know.  Strange,  swift 
pulses  were  beating  in  temple  and  throat ;  strange  tumults 
and  confusion  were  threatening  his  common  sense,  par 
alyzing  will-power.  A  slow,  resistless  intoxication  had 
enveloped  him,  through  which  instinctively  persisted 
one  warning  ray  of  reason.  In  the  light  of  that  single 
ray  he  strove  to  think  clearly.  They  walked  to  the 
pavilion  together,  he  silent,  sombre-eyed,  taking  a  me 
chanical  leave  of  his  hostess,  fulfilling  conventions  while 
scarcely  aware  of  the  routine  or  of  the  people  around 
him ;  she  composed,  sweet,  conventionally  faultless — 
and  a  trifle  pale  as  they  turned  away  together  across 
the  lawn. 

When  they  took  their  places  side  by  side  in  the  chair 
she  was  saying  something  perfunctory  concerning  the 

126 


THE  INVASION 


fete  and  Mrs.  Ascott.  And  as  he  offered  no  comment: 
"  Don't  you  think  her  very  charming  and  sincere.  .  .  . 
Are  you  listening  to  me,  Mr.  Hamil  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Everybody  was  very  jolJy.  Yes, 
indeed." 

"  And — the  girl  who  adores  the  purple  perfume  of 
petunias  ?  "  she  asked  mischievously.  "  I  think  tha* 
same  purple  perfume  has  made  you  drowsy,  my  uncivil 
friend." 

He  turned.     "  Oh,  you  heard  that?  " 
"  Yes ;  I  thought  it  best  to  keep  a  sisterly  eye  on 
you." 

He  forced  a  smile. 

"  You  were  very  much  amused,  I  suppose — to  see  me 
sitting  bras-dessus-bras-dessous  with  the  high-browed 
and  precious." 

"  Not  amused ;  no.  I  was  worried ;  you  appeared  to 
be  so  hopelessly  captivated  by  her  of  the  purple  per 
fumery.  Still,  knowing  you  to  be  a  man  normally  in 
nocent  of  sentiment,  I  hoped  for  Mrs.  Ascott  and  the 
best." 

"  Did  I  once  tell  you  that  there  was  no  sentiment 
in  me,  Calypso  ?  I  believe  I  did." 

"  You  certainly  did,  brother,"  she  replied  with 
cheerful  satisfaction. 

«  Well,  I " 

"  — And,"  she  interrupted  calmly,  "  I  believed  you. 
I  am  particularly  happy  now  in  believing  you."  A 
pause — and  she  glanced  at  him.  "  In  fact,  speaking 
seriously,  it  is  the  nicest  thing  about  you — the  most  at 
tractive  to  me,  I  think."  She  looked  sideways  at  him, 
"  Because,  there  is  no  more  sentiment  in  me  than  there 
is  in  you.  .  .  .  Which  is,  of  course,  very  agreeable — to 
us  both." 

127 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


He  said  nothing  more ;  the  chair  sped  on  homeward. 
Above  them  the  sky  was  salmon-colour;  patches  of  late 
sunlight  burned  red  on  the  tree  trunks ;  over  the  lagoon 
against  the  slowly  kindling  west  clouds  of  wild-fowl 
whirled,  swung,  and  spread  out  into  endless  lengthening 
streaks  like  drifting  bands  of  smoke. 

From  time  to  time  the  girl  cast  a  furtive  glance  to 
ward  him;  but  he  was  looking  straight  ahead  with  a 
darkly  set  face;  and  an  ache,  dull,  scarcely  perceptible, 
grew  in  her  heart  as  they  flew  on  along  the  glimmer 
ing  road. 

"  Of  what  are  you  thinking,  brother?  "  she  asked 
persuasively. 

"  Of  something  I  am  going  to  do ;  as  soon  as  I  reach 
home;  I  mean  your  home." 

"  I  wish  it  were  yours,  too,"  she  said,  smiling 
frankly ;  "  you  are  such  a  safe,  sound,  satisfactory  sub 
stitute  for  another  brother."  .  .  .  And  as  he  made  no 
response :  "  What  is  this  thing  which  you  are  going  to 
do  when  you  reach  home  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  your  mother  a  question." 

Unquiet  she  turned  toward  him,  but  his  face  was 
doggedly  set  forward  as  the  chair  circled  through  the 
gates  and  swept  up  to  the  terrace. 

He  sprang  out;  and  as  he  aided  her  to  descend  she 
felt  his  hand  trembling  under  hers.  A  blind  thrill  of 
premonition  halted  her;  then  she  bit  her  lip,  turned, 
and  mounted  the  steps  with  him.  At  the  door  he  stood 
aside  for  her  to  pass ;  but  again  she  paused  and  turned 
to  Hamil,  irresolute,  confused,  not  even  daring  to  analyse 
what  sheer  instinct  was  clamouring;  what  intuition  WHS 
reading  even  now  in  his  face,  what  her  ears  divined  in 
his  unsteady  roice  uttering  some  commonplace  to  thank 
her  for  the  day  spent  with  him. 

128 


THE   INVASION 


"  What  is  it  that  you  are  going  to  say  to  my 
mother?  "  she  asked  again. 

And  at  the  same  instant  she  knew  from  his  eyes — 
gazing  into  them  in  dread  and  dismay. 

"  Don't !  "  she  said  breathlessly ;  "  I  cannot  let — " 
The  mounting  wave  of  colour  swept  her :  "  Don't  go 
to  her ! — don't  ask  such  a — a  thing.  I  am " 

She  faltered,  looking  up  at  him  with  terrified  eyes, 
and  laid  one  hand  on  his  arm. 

The  frightened  wordless  appeal  stunned  him  as  they 
stood  there,  confronting  one  another.  Suddenly  hope 
came  surging  up  within  her;  her  hand  fell  from  his 
arm ;  she  lifted  her  eyes  in  flushed  silence — only  to  find 
hopeless  confirmation  of  all  she  dreaded  in  his  set  and 
colourless  face. 

"  Mr.  Hamil,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  I  never 
dreamed " 

"  No,  you  didn't.     I  did.    It  is  all  right,  Shiela." 

"  Oh — I — I  never,  never  dreamed  of  it !  " — shocked 
and  pitifully  incredulous  still. 

"  I  know  you  didn't.  Don't  worry."  His  voice  was 
very  gentle,  but  he  was  not  looking  at  her. 

"  Is  it  my— fault,  Mr.  Hamil?  " 

"Your  fault?"  he  repeated,  surprised.  "What 
have  you  done  ?  " 

"  I— don't  know." 

He  stood  gazing  absently  out  into  the  flaming  west ; 
and,  speaking  as  though  unaware :  "  From  the  first — I 
realise  it  now — even  from  the  first  moment  when  you 
sprang  into  my  life  out  of  the  fog  and  the  sea — 
Shiela !  Shiela !— I " 

"  Don't !  "  she  whispered,  "  don't  say  it."  She 
swayed  back  against  the  wall;  her  hand  covered  her 
eyes  an  instant — and  dropped  helpless,  hopeless. 

129 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


They  faced  each  other. 

"  Believe  that  I  am — sorry,"  she  whispered.  "  Will 
you  believe  it?  I  did  not  know;  I  did  not  dream  of  it." 

His  face  changed  as  though  something  within  him 
was  being  darkly  aroused. 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  no  man  ever  lived  who  could 
kill  hope." 

"  There  is  no  hope  to  kill " 

"  No  chance,  Shiela?  " 

u  There  has  never  been  any  chance — "  She  was 
trembling;  he  took  both  her  hands.  They  were  ice 
cold. 

He  straightened  up,  squaring  his  shoulders.  "  This 
won't  do,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not  going  to  distress  you — 
frighten  you  again."  The  smile  he  forced  was  certainly 
a  credit  to  him. 

"  Shiela,  you'd  love  me  if  you  could,  wouldn't 
you?" 

"  Y-yes,"  with  a  shiver. 

"  Then  it's  all  right  and  you  mustn't  worry.  .  .  . 
Can't  we  get  back  to  the  old  footing  again  ?  " 

"  N-no ;  it's  gone." 

"  Then  we'll  find  even  firmer  ground." 

"  Yes — firmer  ground,  Mr.  Hamil." 
•     He  released  her  chilled  hands,  swung  around,  and 
took  a  thoughtful  step  or  two. 

"  Firmer,  safer  ground,"  he  repeated.  "  Once  you 
said  to  me,  '  Let  us  each  enjoy  our  own  griefs  un 
molested.' "  He  laughed.  "Didn't  you  say  that — 
years  ago  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  I  replied — years  ago — that  I  had  no  griefs 
to  enjoy.  Didn't  I?  Well,  then,  if  this  is  grief,  Shiela, 
I  wouldn't  exchange  it  for  another  man's  happiness.  So, 

130 


THE   INVASION 


if  you  please,  I'll  follow  your  advice  and  enjoy  it  in  my 
own  fashion.  .  .  .  Shiela,  you  don't  smile  very  often, 
but  I  wish  you  would  now." 

But  the  ghost  of  a  smile  left  her  pallor  unchanged. 
She  moved  toward  the  stairs,  wearily,  stopped  and 
turned. 

"  It  cannot  end  this  way,"  she  said ;  "  I  want  you 
to  know  how — to  know — to  know  that  I — am — sensible 
of  w-what  honour  you  have  done  me.  Wait !  I — I  can't 
let  you  think  that  I — do  not — care,  Mr.  Hamil.  Be 
lieve  that  I  do! — oh,  deeply.  And  forgive  me —  She 
stretched  out  one  hand.  He  took  it,  holding  it  between 
both  of  his  for  a  moment,  lightly. 

"  Is  all  clear  between  us,  Calypso  dear?  " 

"  It  will  be — when  I  have  courage  to  tell  you." 

"  Then  all's  well  with  the  world — if  it's  still  under 
foot — or  somewhere  in  the  vicinity.  I'll  find  it  again ; 
you'll  be  good  enough  to  point  it  out  to  me,  Shiela.  .  .  . 
I've  an  engagement  to  improve  a  few  square  miles  of 
it.  ...  That's  what  I  need — plenty  of  work — don't  I, 
Shiela?" 

The  clear  mellow  horn  of  a  motor  sounded  from  the 
twilit  lawn;  the  others  were  arriving.  He  dropped  her 
hand ;  she  gathered  her  filmy  skirts  and  swiftly  mounted 
the  great  stairs,  leaving  him  to  greet  her  father  and 
Gray  on  the  terrace. 

"  Hello,  Hamil !  "  called  out  Cardross,  senior,  from 
the  lawn,  "  are  you  game  for  a  crack  at  the  ducks  to 
morrow?  My  men  report  Ruffle  Lake  full  of  coots  and 
blue-bills,  and  there'll  be  bigger  duck  in  the  West 
Lagoons." 

"  I'm  going  too,"  said  Gray,  "  also  Shiela  if  she 
wants  to — and  four  guides  and  that  Seminole,  Little 
Tiger." 

131 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Hamil  glanced  restlessly  at  the  forest  where  his  work 
lay.  And  he  needed  it  now.  But  he  said  pleasantly, 
'*  I'll  go  if  you  say  so." 

"  Of  course  I  say  so,"  exclaimed  Cardross  heartily. 
"  Gray,  does  Louis  Malcourt  still  wish  to  go?  " 

"  He  spoke  of  it  last  week." 

"  Well,  if  he  hasn't  changed  his  rather  volatile  mind 
telephone  for  Adams.  We'll  require  a  guide  apiece. 
And  he  can  have  that  buckskin  horse;  and  tell  him  to 
pick  out  his  own  gun."  And  to  Hamil,  cordially: 
"  Shiela  and  Louis  and  Gray  will  probably  wander  about 
together  and  you  and  I  will  do  the  real  shooting.  But 
Shiela  is  a  shot — if  she  chooses.  Gray  would  rather 
capture  a  scarce  jungle  butterfly.  Hello,  here's  Louis 
now!  Are  you  glad  we're  going  at  last?  " 

"  Very,"  replied  Hamil  as  Malcourt  strolled  up  and 
airily  signified  his  intention  of  making  one  of  the  party. 
But  as  soon  as  he  learned  that  they  might  remain  away 
three  days  or  more  he  laughingly  demurred. 

The  four  men  lingered  for  a  few  minutes  in  the 
hall  discussing  guns,  dogs,  and  guides;  then  Hamil 
mounted  the  stairs,  and  Malcourt  went  with  him,  talk 
ing  all  the  while  in  that  easy,  fluent,  amusing  manner 
which,  if  he  chose,  could  be  as  agreeably  graceful  as 
every  attitude  and  movement  of  his  lithe  body.  His 
voice,  too,  had  that  engagingly  caressing  quality  char- 
icteristic  of  him  when  in  good-humour;  he  really  had 
little  to  say  to  Hamil,  but  being  on  such  excellent  terms 
with  himself  he  said  a  great  deal  about  nothing  in  par 
ticular;  and  as  he  persistently  lingered  by  Hamil's 
door  the  latter  invited  him  in. 

There  Malcourt  lit  a  cigarette,  seated  lazily  astride 
a  chair,  arms  folded  across  the  back,  aimlessly  humour 
ous  in  recounting  his  adventures  at  the  Ascott  function, 


THE   INVASION 


while  Hamil  stood  with  his  back  to  the  darkening  win 
dow,  twisting  his  unlighted  cigarette  into  minute  shreds 
and  waiting  for  him  to  go. 

"  Rather  jolly  to  meet  Miss  Suydam  again,"  ob 
served  Malcourt.  "  We  were  great  friends  at  Portlaw's 
camp  together  two  years  ago.  I  believe  that  you  and 
Miss  Suydarn  are  cousins  after  a  fashion." 

"  After  a  fashion,  I  believe." 

"  She's  tremendously  attractive,  Hamil." 

"What?     Oh,  yes,  very." 

u  Evidently  no  sentiment  lost  between  you,"  laughed 
the  other. 

"  No,  of  course  not ;  no  sentiment." 

Malcourt  said  carelessly :  "  I'm  riding  with  Miss 
Suydam  to-morrow.  That's  one  reason  I'm  not  going 
on  this  duck-hunt." 

Hamil  nodded. 

"  Another  reason,"  he  continued,  intent  on  the  glow 
ing  end  of  his  cigarette,  "  is  that  I'm  rather  fortunate 
at  the  Club  just  now — and  I  don't  care  to  disturb  any 
run  of  luck  that  seems  inclined  to  drift  my  way.  Would 
you  give  your  luck  the  double  cross?  " 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  Hamil  vaguely — "  if  I  ever 
had  any." 

"  That's  the  way  I  feel.  And  it's  all  kinds  of  luck 
that's  chasing  me.  All  kinds,  Hamil.  One  kind,  for 
example,  wears  hair  that  matches  my  cuff-links.  Odd, 
isn't  it?  "  he  added,  examining  the  golden  links  with 
a  smile. 

Hamil  nodded  inattentively. 

"  I  am  about  seven  thousand  dollars  ahead  on  the 
other  sort  of  luck,"  observed  Malcourt.  "  If  it  holds 
to-night  I'll  inaugurate  a  killing  that  will  astonish  the 
brothers  B.  yonder.  By  the  way,  now  that  you  have 

133 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


your  club  ticket  why  don't  you  use  it? — one  way  or  aa- 
other." 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  Hamil  listlessly. 

A  few  minutes  later  Malcourt,  becoming  bored,  ge 
nially  took  his  leave;  and  Hamil  turned  on  an  electric 
jet  and  began  to  undo  his  collar  and  tie. 

He  was  in  no  hurry;  at  times  he  suspended  opera 
tions  to  pace  aimlessly  to  and  fro;  and  after  a  while, 
half  undressed,  he  dropped  into  an  arm-chair,  clinched 
hands  supporting  his  temples. 

Presently  he  said  aloud  to  himself :  "  It's  absolutely 
impossible.  It  can't  happen  this  way.  How  can  it?  " 

His  heavy  pulse  answered  the  question ;  a  tense 
strain,  irksome  as  an  ache,  dragged  steadily  at  some 
thing  within  him  which  resisted;  dulling  reason  and 
thought. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  there  inert,  listening  for  the 
sound  of  her  voice  which  echoed  at  moments  through  the 
stunned  silence  within  him.  And  at  last  he  stumbled  to 
his  feet  like  a  stricken  man  on  the  firing  line,  stupefied 
that  the  thing  had  happened  to  him;  and  stood  un 
steadily,  looking  around.  Then  he  went  heavily  about 
his  dressing. 

Later,  when  he  was  ready  to  leave  his  room,  ht 
heard  Malcourt  walking  through  the  corridor  outside — 
a  leisurely  and  lightly  stepping  Malcourt,  whistling  a 
lively  air.  And,  when  Malcourt  had  passed  came  Cecile 
rustling  from  the  western  corridor,  gay,  quick-stepping, 
her  enchanting  laughter  passing  through  the  corridor 
like  a  fresh  breeze  as  she  joined  Mrs.  Carrick  on  the 
stairs.  Then  silence;  and  he  opened  his  door.  And 
Shiela  Cardross,  passing  noiselessly,  turned  at  the  sound. 

His  face  must  have  been  easy  to  read  for  her  own 
promptly  lost  its  colour,  and  with  an  involuntary  re- 

134 


THE   INVASION 


coil  she  stepped  back  against  the  wall,  staring  at  him 
in  pallid  silence. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked,  scarcely  recog 
nising  his  own  voice.  And  striving  to  shake  off  the 
unreality  of  it  all  with  a  laugh :  "  You  look  like  some 
pretty  ghost  from  dreamland — with  your  white  gown 
and  arms  and  face.  Shall  we  descend  into  the  waking 
world  together?  " 

They  stood  for  a  moment  motionless,  looking  straight 
at  one  another ;  then  the  smile  died  out  on  his  face,  but 
he  still  strove  to  speak  lightly,  using  effort,  like  a  man 
with  a  dream  dark  upon  him :  "  I  am  waiting  for  your 
pretty  ghostship." 

Her  lips  moved  in  reply ;  no  sound  came  from  them. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  me?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes." 

"Qi  me,  Shiela?" 

"  Of  us  both.     You  don't  know — you  don't  know !  ** 

"Know  what,  Shiela?" 

"  What  I  am — what  I  have  done.  And  I've  got  to 
tell  you."  Her  mouth  quivered  suddenly,  and  she  faced 
him  fighting  for  self-control.  "  I've  got  to  tell  you. 
Things  cannot  be  left  in  this  way  between  us.  I 
thought  they  could,  but  they  can't." 

He  crossed  the  corridor,  slowly ;  she  straightened  up 
at  his  approach,  white,  rigid,  breathless. 

"  What  is  it  that  has  frightened  you  ?  "  he  said. 

"  What  you— said— to  me." 

"  That  I  love  you?  " 

"  Yes ;  that."  * 

"  Why  should  it  frighten  you?  " 

"Must  I  tell  you?" 

"  If  it  will  help  you." 

"  I  am  past  help.  But  it  will  end  you're  caring  for 
10  135 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


me.  And  from  making  me — care — for  you.  I  must  do 
it;  this  cannot  go  on ' 

"Shiela!" 

She  faced  him,  white  as  death,  looking  at  hk» 
blindly. 

I  am  tr}dng  to  think  of  you — because  you  love 
j? 

Fright  chilled  her  blood,  killing  pulse  and  colour. 
"  I  am  trying  to  be  kind — because  I  care  for  you — and 
we  must  end  this  before  it  ends  us.  .  .  .  Listen  to  mj 
miserable,  pitiful,  little  secret,  Mr.  Hamil.  I — I  have 
— I  am  not — free." 

"Not  free*" 

"  I  was  married  two  years  ago — when  I  was  eighteem 
years  old.  Three  people  in  the  world  know  it:  you,  I, 
and — the  man  I  married." 

"  Married !  "  he  repeated,  stupefied. 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  a  moment. 

"  I  think  your  love  has  been  done  to  death,  Mr. 
Hamil.  My  own  danger  was  greater  than  you  knew; 
but  it  was  for  your  sake — because  you  loved  me.  Good 
night." 

Stunned,  he  saw  her  pass  him  and  descend  the  stairs, 
stood  for  a  space  alone,  then  scarce  knowing  what  he  did 
he  went  down  into  the  great  living-room  to  take  his 
leave  of  the  family  gathered  there  before  dinner  had 
been  announced.  They  all  seemed  to  be  there;  he  was 
indifferently  conscious  of  hearing  his  own  words  like 
a  man  who  listens  to  an  unfamiliar  voice  in  a  distant 
room. 

The  rapid  soundless  night  ride  to  the  hotel  seemed 
unreal;  the  lights  in  the  cafe,  the  noise  and  movement, 
the  pretty  face  of  his  aunt  with  the  pink  reflection  from 
the  candle  shades  on  her  cheeks — all  seemed  as  UUCOB- 

136 


THE   INVASION 


rincing  as  himself  and  this  thing  that  he  could  not 
grasp — could  not  understand — could  not  realise  had  be 
fallen  him — and  her. 

If  Miss  Palliser  was  sensible  of  any  change  in  him 
or  his  voice  or  manner  she  did  not  betray  it.  Wayward 
came  over  to  speak  to  them,  limping  very  slightly,  tall, 
straight,  ruddy,  the  gray  silvering  his  temples  and 
edging  his  moustache. 

And  after  a  while  Hamil  found  himself  sitting  silent, 
a  partly  burnt  cigar  between  his  fingers,  watching  Way 
ward  and  his  youthful  aunt  in  half-intimate,  half-for 
mal  badinage,  elbow  to  elbow  on  the  cloth.  For  they 
had  known  one  another  a  long  time,  and  through  many 
phases  of  Fate  and  Destiny. 

"  That  little  Cardross  girl  is  playing  the  devil  with 
the  callow  hereabout,"  Wayward  said ;  "  Malcourt, 
house-broken,  runs  to  heel  with  the  rest.  And  when  I 
see  her  I  feel  like  joining  the  pack.  Only — I  was  never 
broken,  you  know " 

"  She  is  a  real  beauty,"  said  Miss  Palliser  warmly ; 
**  I  don't  see  why  you  don't  enlist,  James." 

"  I  may  at  that.     Garry,  are  you  also  involved?  " 

Hamil  said,  "  Yes — yes,  of  course,"  and  smiled 
meaninglessly  at  Wayward. 

For  a  fraction  of  a  second  his  aunt  hesitated,  then 
said :  "  Garry  is  naturally  among  the  devoted — when  he's 
not  dog-tired  from  a  day  in  the  cypress-swamps.  Have 
you  been  out  to  see  the  work,  James?  Oh,  you  should 
go;  everybody  goes;  it's  one  of  the  things  to  do  here. 
And  I'm  very  proud  when  I  hear  people  say,  *  There's 
that  brilliant  young  fellow,  Hamil,'  or,  in  a  tone  which 
expresses  profound  respect,  '  Hamil  designed  it,  you 
know  ' ;  and  I  smile  and  think,  *  That's  my  boy  Garry ! ' 
James,  it  is  a  very  comfortable  sensation  for  an  old  lady 

137 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


to  experience."  And  she  looked  at  Wayward  out  of  her 
lovely  golden  eyes,  sweet  as  a  maid  of  twenty. 

Wayward  smiled,  then  absently  bent  his  gaze  on  his 
wine-glass,  lying  back  in  his  chair.  Through  his  spec 
tacles  his  eyes  seemed  very  intent  on  the  frail  crystal 
stem  of  his  glass. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  for  the  rest  of  the  win 
ter?  "  she  asked,  watching  him. 

"  What  I  am  doing,"  he  replied  with  smiling  bit 
terness.  "  The  Ariani  is  yonder  when  I  can't  stand  the 
shore.  .  .  .  What  else  is  there  for  me  to  do — until  I 
snuff  out ! " 

"  Build  that  house  you  were  going  to  build — when 
we  were  rather  younger,  Jim." 

"  I  did ;  and  it  fell,"  he  said  quietly ;  but,  as  though 
she  had  not  heard.  " — Build  that  house,"  she  repeated, 
"  and  line  it  with  books — the  kind  of  books  that  were 
written  and  read  before  the  machine-made  sort  sup 
planted  them.  One  picture  to  a  room — do  you  remem 
ber,  Jim? — or  two  if  you  find  it  better;  the  kind  men 
painted  before  Rembrandt  died.  .  .  .  Do  you  remem 
ber  your  plan? — the  plans  you  drew  for  me  to  look  at 
in  our  front  parlour — when  New  York  houses  had  par 
lours?  You  were  twenty  and  I  fourteen.  .  .  .  Garry, 
yonder,  was  not.  .  .  .  And  the  rugs,  you  recollect? — 
one  or  two  in  a  room,  Shiraz,  Ispahan — nothing  as  ob 
vious  as  Sehna  and  Saraband — nothing  but  Moresque 
and  pure  Persian — and  one  agedly  perfect  gem  of  Asia 
Minor,  and  one  Tekke,  so  old  and  flawless  that  only  the 
pigeon-blood  fire  remained  under  the  violet  bloom.  .  .  . 
Do  you  remember?  " 

Way  ward's  shoulders  straightened  with  a  jerk.  For 
twenty  years  he  had  not  remembered  these  things;  and 
she  had  not  only  remembered  but  was  now  reciting  the 

138 


THE   INVASION 


strange,  quaint,  resurrected  words  in  their  forgotten  se 
quence  ;  the  words  he  had  uttered  as  he — or  what  he  had 
once  been — sat  in  the  old-time  parlour  in  the  mellow 
half  light  of  faded  brocades  and  rosewood,  repeating  to 
a  child  the  programme  of  his  future.  Lofty  aim  and 
high  ideal,  the  cultivated  endeavour  of  good  citizenship, 
loyalty  to  aspiration,  courage,  self-respect,  and  the 'noble 
living  of  life;  they  had  also  spoken  of  these  things  to 
gether — there  in  the  golden  gloom  of  the  old-time  par 
lour  when  she  was  fourteen  and  he  master  of  his  fate 
and  twenty. 

But  there  came  into  his  life  a  brilliant  woman  who 
stayed  a  year  and  left  his  name  a  mockery :  Malcourt's 
only  sister,  now  Lady  Tressilvain,  doubtfully  conspicu 
ous  with  her  loutish  British  husband,  among  those  con 
tinentals  where  titles  serve  rather  to  obscure  than 
enlighten  inquiry. 

The  wretched  affair  dragged  its  full  offensive  length 
through  the  international  press;  leaving  him  with  his 
divorce  signed  and  a  future  endurable  only  when  his 
senses  had  been  sufficiently  drugged.  In  sober  intervals 
he  now  had  neuritis  and  a  limp  to  distract  his  mind; 
also  his  former  brother-in-law  with  professions  of  esteem 
and  respect  and  a  tendency  to  borrow.  And  drunk  or 
sober  he  had  the  Ariani.  But  the  house  that  Youth  had 
built  in  the  tinted  obscurity  of  an  old  New  York  par 
lour — no,  he  didn't  have  that;  and  even  memory  of  it 
were  wellnigh  gone  had  not  Constance  Palliser  spoken 
from  the  shadows  of  the  past. 

He  lifted  his  glass  unsteadily  and  replaced  it.  Then 
slowly  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  full  at  Constance 
Paltiser. 

"  It's  too  late,"  he  said;  "  but  I  wish  I  had  known 
that  you  remembered." 

139 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


*  Would  you  have  built  it,  Jim  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  again,  then  shook  his  head :  "  For 
whom  am  I  to  build,  Constance  ?  " 

She  leaned  forward,  glancing  at  the  unconscious 
Hamil,  then  dropped  her  voice :  "  Build  it  for  the  Boy 
that  Was,  Jim." 

"  A  headstone  would  be  fitter — and  less  expensive." 

*  I  am  not  asking  you  to  build  in  memory  of  the 
dead.     The  Boy  who  Was  is  only  asleep.     If  you  could 
let  him  wake,  suddenly,  in  that  house " 

A  clear  flush  of  surprise  stained  his  skin  to  the  hair. 
It  had  been  many  years  since  a  woman  had  hinted  at 
any  belief  in  him. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  I  couldn't  endure  the  four 
walls  of  a  house,  Constance?  " 

*  You  have  not  tried  this  house." 

"  Men — such  men  as  I — cannot  go  back  to  the 
House  of  Youth." 

"  Try,  Jim." 

His  hand  was  shaking  as  he  lifted  it  to  adjust  his 
spectacles;  and  impulsively  she  laid  her  hand  on  h» 
twitching  arm: 

**  Jim,  build  it ! — and  see  what  happens." 

"  I  cannot." 

**  Build  it.  You  will  not  be  alone  and  sad  in  it 
if  you  remember  the  boy  and  the  child  in  the  par 
lour.  They — they  will  be  good  company — if  you 
wish." 

He  rested  his  elbows  on  the  table,  head  bent  between 
kis  sea-burned  hands. 

**  If  I  could  only,  only  do  something,"  she  whis 
pered.  "  The  boy  has  merely  been  asleep,  Jim.  I  have 
always  known  it.  But  it  has  taken  many  years  for  me 
to  bring  myself  to  this  moment." 

140 


THE   INVASION 


"  Do  you  tliink  a  man  can  come  back  through  such 
wreckage  and  mire — do  you  think  he  wants  to  come 
back?  What  do  you  know  about  it? — with  your  white 
skin  and  bright  hair — and  that  child's  mouth  of  yours — 
What  do  you  know  about  it?  " 

"  Once  you  were  the  oracle,  Jim.  May  I  not  have 
my  turn?  " 

"  Yes — but  what  in  God's  name  do  you  care?  " 

"  Will  you  build?  " 

He  looked  at  her  dumbly,  hopelessly ;  then  his  arm 
twitched  and  he  relieved  the  wrist  from  the  weight  of 
his  head,  sitting  upright,  his  eyes  still  bent  on  her. 

"  Because — in  that  old  parlour — the  child  expected 
it  of  the  boy,"  she  said.  "  And  expects  it  yet." 

Hamil,  who,  chair  pushed  back,  had  been  listlessly 
watching  the  orchestra,  roused  himself  and  turned  to 
his  aunt  and  Wayward. 

"  You  want  to  go,  Garry  ?  "  said  Constance  calmly. 
"  I'll  walk  a  little  with  James  before  I  compose  my  aged 
bones  to  slumber.  .  .  .  Good  night,  dear.  Will  you 
come  again  soon  ?  " 

He  said  he  would  and  took  his  leave  of  them  in  the 
long  corridor,  traversing  it  without  noticing  which  di 
rection  he  took  until,  awaking  from  abstraction,  he  found 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  flight  of  steps  and  saw  the  por 
tico  of  the  railroad  station  below  him  and  the  signal 
lamps,  green  and  red  and  white,  burning  between  the 
glistening  rails. 

Without  much  caring  where  he  went,  but  not  desiring 
to  retrace  his  steps  over  half  a  mile  or  so  of  carpet,  he 
went  out  into  the  open  air  and  along  the  picket  fence 
toward  the  lake  front. 

As  he  came  to  the  track  crossing  he  glanced  across 
at  the  Beach  Club  where  lights  sparkled  discreetly  amid 

14)1 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


a  tropical  thicket  and  flowers  lay  in  pale  carpets  under 
the  stars. 

Portlaw  had  sent  him  a  member's  card ;  he  took  it  out 
now  and  scanned  it  with  faint  curiosity.  His  name  was 
written  on  the  round-cornered  brown  card  signed  by  a 
"  vice-president  "  and  a  "  secretary,"  under  the  engraved 
notice :  "  To  be  shown  when  requested." 

But  when  he  ascended  the  winding  walk  among  the 
palms  and  orange  blossoms,  this  "  suicide's  tag,"  as 
Malcourt  called  it,  was  not  demanded  of  him  at  the 
door. 

The  restaurant  seemed  to  be  gay  and  rather  noisy, 
the  women  vivacious,  sometimes  beautiful,  and  often  re 
spectable.  A  reek  of  cigarette  smoke,  wine,  and  orange 
blossoms  hung  about  the  corridors;  the  tiny  glittering 
rotunda  with  its  gaming-tables  in  a  circle  was  thronged. 

He  watched  them  lose  and  win  and  lose  again.  Under 
the  soft  tumult  of  voices  the  cool  tones  of  the  house  at 
taches  sounded  monotonously,  the  ball  rattled,  the  wheels 
spun.  But  curiosity  had  already  died  out  within  him ; 
gain,  loss,  chance,  Fate — and  the  tense  white  concen 
tration  of  the  man  beside  him  no  longer  interested  him ; 
nor  did  a  sweet-faced  young  girl  in  the  corridor  who 
looked  a  second  too  long  at  him ;  nor  the  handsome  over- 
flushed  youth  who  was  with  her  and  who  cried  out  in 
loud  recognition :  "  Gad,  Hamil ;  why  didn't  you  tell  me 
you  were  coming?  There's  somebody  here  who  wants  to 
meet  you,  but  Portlaw's  got  her — somewhere.  You'll 
take  supper  with  us  anyway!  We'll  find  you  a  fair 
impenitent." 

Hamil  stared  at  him  coolly.  He  was  on  no  such 
terms  with  Malcourt,  drunk  or  sober.  But  everybody 
was  Malcourt's  friend  just  then,  and  he  went  on  reck 
lessly  : 


THE   INVASION 


"  You've  got  to  stay;  hasn't  he,  Dolly?— Oh,  I  for 
got — Miss  Wilming,  Mr.  Hamil,  who's  doing  the  new 
park,  you  know.  All  kinds  of  genius  buzzes  in  his 
head — roulette  wheels  buzz  in  mine.  Hamil,  you  remem 
ber  Miss  Wilming  in  the  '  Motor  Girl.'  She  was  one  of 
the  acetylenes.  Come  on ;  we'll  all  light  up  later.  Make 
him  come,  Dolly." 

Hamil  turned  to  speak  to  her.  She  seemed  to  be, 
at  a  casual  glance,  the  sort  of  young  girl  who  usually 
has  a  mother  somewhere  within  ear-shot.  Upon  inspec 
tion,  however,  her  bright  hair  was  a  little  too  perfectly 
rippled,  and  her  mouth  a  trifle  fuller  and  redder  than  a 
normal  circulation  might  account  for.  But  there  re 
mained  in  the  eyes  something  as  yet  unquenched.  And 
looking  at  her,  he  felt  a  sense  of  impatience  and  regret 
that  the  delicate  youth  of  her  should  be  wasted  in  the 
flare  and  shadow  of  the  lesser  world — burning  to  a  spec 
tre  here  on  the  crumbling  edge  of  things — here  with 
Malcourt  leering  at  her  through  the  disordered  bril 
liancy  of  that  false  dawn  which  heralds  only  night. 

They  spoke  together,  smilingly  formal.  He  had 
quietly  turned  his  back  on  Malcourt. 

She  hoped  he  would  remain  and  j  oin  them ;  and  he* 
as  yet  unspoiled  voice  clashed  with  her  tinted  lips  and 
hair. 

He  was  sorry — politely  so — thanking  her  with  the 
natural  and  unconscious  gentleness  so  agreeable  to  all 
women.  And  as  in  his  manner  there  was  not  the  slight 
est  hint  of  that  half-amused,  half-cynical  freedom  char 
acteristic  of  the  worldly  wise  whom  she  was  now  accus 
toming  herself  to  meet,  she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  faint 
flush  of  appreciation. 

Malcourt  all  the  while  was  pulling  Hamil  by  the  el 
bow  and  talking  on  at  random  almost  boisterously,  check- 

143 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


ing  himself  at  intervals  to  exchange  familiar  greetings 
with  new-comers  passing  the  crowded  corridor.  His  face 
was  puffy  and  red;  so  were  his  lips;  and  there  seemed 
to  be  a  shiny  quality  to  hair  and  skin  prophetic  of  future 
coarsening  toward  a  type,  individuals  of  which  swarmed 
like  sleek  flies  around  the  gaming-tables  beyond. 

As  Hamil  glanced  from  the  young  girl  to  Malcourt, 
who  was  still  noisily  importuning  him,  a  sudden  con 
tempt  for  the  man  arose  within  him.  So  unreasoningly 
abrupt  was  the  sensation  of  absolute  distrust  and  dislike 
that  it  cut  his  leave-taking  to  a  curt  word  of  refusal, 
and  he  turned  on  his  heel. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  Aren't  you  coming 
with  us?"  asked  Malcourt,  reddening. 

"  No,"  said  Hamil.  "  Good-bye,  Miss  Wilming. 
Thank  you  for  asking  me." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  uncertainly ;  he  took  it  with 
a  manner  so  gentle  and  considerate  that  she  ventured, 
hesitatingly,  something  about  seeing  him  again.  To 
which  he  replied,  pleasantly  conventional,  and  started 
toward  the  door. 

"  See  here,  Hamil,"  said  Malcourt  sharply,  "  is  there 
any  reason  for  your  sudden  and  deliberate  rudeness  to 
me?" 

"  Is  there  any  reason  for  your  sudden  and  deliberate 
familiarity  with  me?  "  retorted  Hamil  in  a  low  voice. 
"You're  drunk!" 

Malcourt's  visage  crimsoned :  "  O  hell !  "  he  said, 
"  if  your  morals  are  as  lofty  as  your  mincing  man 
ners " 

Hamil  stared  him  into  silence,  hesitated,  then  passed 
in  front  of  him  and  out  of  the  door. 

Vicious  with  irritation,  Malcourt  laid  his  hand  on  the 
girl's  arm :  "  Take  it  from  me,  Dolly,  that's  the  sort  of 

144 


THE   INVASION 


citizen  who'll  sneak  around  to  call  on  your  sort  Saturday 
evenings." 

She  flushed  painfully,  but  said  nothing.  "  As  for 
me,"  added  Malcourt,  "  I  don't  think  I've  quite  finished 
with  this  nice  young  man." 

But  Dolly  Wilming  stood  silent,  head  bent,  slender 
fingers  worrying  her  lips,  which  seemed  inclined  to 
quiver. 


CHAPTER    X 

TERRA    INCOGNITA 

THE  camp-wagon  and  led  horses  left  before  day 
light  with  two  of  the  Cracker  guides,  Bulow  and  Car 
ter;  but  it  was  an  hour  after  sunrise  when  Cardross, 
senior,  Gray,  Shiela,  Hamil,  and  the  head  guide,  Eudo 
Stent,  rode  out  of  the  patio  into  the  dewy  beauty  of  a 
February  morning. 

The  lagoon  was  pink;  so  was  the  white  town  on  its 
western  shore ;  in  the  east,  ocean  and  sky  were  one  vast 
rosy-rayed  glory.  Few  birds  sang. 

Through  the  intense  stillness  of  early  morning  the 
little  cavalcade  made  a  startling  clatter  on  the  shell 
highway ;  but  the  rattle  of  hoofs  was  soon  deadened  in 
the  sand  of  a  broad  country  road  curving  south  through 
dune  and  hammock  along  the  lake  shore. 

Dew  still  dropped  in  great  splashes  from  pine  and 
palm ;  dew  powdered  the  sparkle-berry  bushes  and  lay 
like  a  tiny  lake  of  quicksilver  in  the  hollow  of  every 
broad  palmetto  frond;  and  all  around  them  earth  and 
grass  and  shrub  exhaled  the  scented  freshness  of  a  dew- 
washed  world. 

On  the  still  surface  of  the  lake,  tinted  with  palest 
rose  and  primrose,  the  wild  ducks  floated,  darkly  sil 
houetted  against  the  water  or,  hoping  for  crumbs,  pad 
dled  shoreward,  inquiringly  peering  up  at  the  riders 
with  little  eyes  of  brightest  gold. 

146 


TERRA   INCOGNITA 

temmaHBsaam^mmKm*m^m*mm3mmm**aameamMmtafHtmmamuutUB 

"  Blue-bills,"  said  Cardross  to  Hamil ;  "  nobody 
shoots  them  on  the  lake ;  they're  as  tame  as  barnyard 
waterfowl.  Yet,  the  instant  these  same  ducks  leave  this 
lagoon  where  they  know  they're  protected  they  become 
as  wild  and  wary  and  as  difficult  to  get  a  shot  at  as 
any  other  wild-fowl." 

Shiela,  riding  ahead  with  Gray,  tossed  bits  of  bread 
into  the  water ;  and  the  little  blue-bill  ducks  came  swim 
ming  in  scores,  keeping  up  with  the  horses  so  fearlessly 
and  persistently  that  the  girl  turned  in  her  saddle  and 
looked  back  at  her  father  in  delight. 

"  I'm  certainly  as  gifted  as  the  Pied  Piper,  dad !  If 
they  follow  me  to  Ruffle  Lake  I  won't  permit  a  shot  to 
be  fired." 

While  she  spoke  she  kept  her  eyes  on  her  father. 
Except  for  a  brief  good  morning  at  breakfast  she  had 
neither  looked  at  nor  spoken  to  Hamil,  making  no  no 
ticeable  effort  to  avoid  him,  but  succeeded  in  doing  it 
nevertheless. 

Like  her  father  and  brother  and  Hamil  she  was 
mounted  on  an  unornamental  but  wiry  Tallahassee 
horse ;  and  she  rode  cross-saddle,  wearing  knee-coat  and 
kilts  of  kahkee  and  brown  leather  puttees  strapped 
from  under  the  kneecap  to  the  ankle.  Like  the  others, 
too,  she  carried  a  small  shotgun  in  a  saddle  boot,  and 
in  the  web  loops  across  her  breast  glimmered  the  metal 
rims  of  a  dozen  cartridges.  A  brilliant  handkerchief 
knotted  loosely  around  her  bare  white  throat,  and  a 
broad  Panama  turned  up  in  front  and  resolutely  pulled 
down  behind  to  defy  sunstroke,  completed  a  most  be- 
wilderingly  charming  picture,  which  moved  even  her 
father  to  admiring  comment. 

"  Only,"  he  added,  "  look  before  you  step  over  a  log 
when  you're  afoot.  The  fangs  of  a  big  diamondback 

147 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


are  three-quarters  of  an  inch  long,  my  dear,  and  they'll 
go  through  leather  as  a  needle  goes  through  cambric.5' 

"  Thanks,  dad — and  here  endeth  the  usual  lesson." 

Cardross  said  to  Hamil :  "  One  scarcely  knows  what 
to  think  about  the  snakes  here.  The  records  of  the 
entire  Union  show  few  deaths  in  a  year,  and  yet  there's 
no  scarcity  of  rattlers,  copperheads,  and  moccasins  in 
this  Republic  of  ours.  I  know  a  man,  an  ornithol 
ogist,  who  for  twelve  years  has  wandered  about  the 
Florida  woods  and  never  saw  a  rattler.  And  yet,  the 
other  night  a  Northern  man,  a  cottager,  lighted  his 
cigar  after  dinner  and  stepped  off  his  veranda  on  to  a 
rattler." 

"Was  he  bitten?" 

"  Yes.  He  died  in  two  hours."  Cardross  shrugged 
and  gathered  up  his  bridle.  "  Personally  I  have  no 
fear;  leggings  won't  help  much;  besides,  a  good-sized 
snake  can  strike  one's  hand  as  it  swings ;  but  our  cracker 
guides  go  everywhere  in  thin  cotton  trousers  and  the 
Seminoles  are  barelegged.  One  hears  often  enough  of 
escapes,  yet  very  rarely  of  anybody  being  bitten.  One 
of  my  grove  guards  was  struck  by  a  moccasin  last  win 
ter.  He  was  an  awfully  sick  nigger  for  a  while,  but  he 
got  over  it." 

"  That's  cheerful,"  said  Hamil,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  you  might  as  well  know.  There  are  plenty 
of  wiseacres  who'll  tell  you  that  nobody's  in  danger  at 
these  East  Coast  resorts,  and  the  hotel  people  will  swear 
solemnly  there  isn't  a  serpent  in  the  State;  but  there 
are,  Hamil,  and  plenty  of  them.  I've  seen  rattlers 
strike  without  rattling;  and  moccasins  are  ugly  brutes 
that  won't  get  out  of  the  way  for  you  and  that  give  no 
warning  when  they  strike;  and  all  quail  hunters  in  the 
flat-woods  know  how  their  pointers  and  setters  are 

148 


TERRA   INCOGNITA 


killed,  and  every  farmer  knows  that  the  best  watchmen 
he  can  have  is  a  flock  of  guinea-fowl  or  turkeys  or  a 
few  hogs  loose.  The  fact  is  that  deadly  snakes  are  not 
rare  in  many  localities ;  the  wonder  is  that  scarcely  a 
death  is  reported  in  a  year.  How  many  niggers  die,  I 
don't  know ;  but  I  know  enough,  when  I'm  in  the  woods 
or  fields,  to  look  every  time  before  I  put  my  foot  upon 
the  ground." 

"  How  can  you  see  in  the  jungle?  " 

"  You've  got  to  see.  Besides,  rattlers  are  on  the 
edge  of  thickets,  not  inside.  They've  got  to  have  an 
open  space  to  strike  the  small  furry  creatures  which 
they  live  on.  Moccasins  affect  mud — look  there !  ** 

Both  horses  shyed ;  in  front  Shiela's  mount  was  be 
having  badly,  but  even  while  she  was  mastering  him  she 
tried  at  the  same  time  to  extract  her  shotgun  from  the 
leather  boot.  Stent  rode  up  and  drew  it  out  for  her; 
Hamil  saw  her  break  and  load,  swing  in  the  saddle,  and 
gaze  straight  into  an  evil-looking  bog  all  set  with  an 
cient  cypress  knees  and  the  undulating  snaky  roots  of 
palmettos. 

"  A  perfectly  enormous  one,  dad ! "  she  called  back. 

"  Wait !  "  said  Cardross ;  "  I  want  Hamil  to  see." 
And  to  Hamil :  "  Ride  forward ;  you  ought  to  know 
what  the  ugly  brutes  look  like !  " 

As  he  drew  bridle  at  Shiela's  left  the  girl,  still  in 
tent,  pointed  in  silence;  but  he  looked  in  vain  for  the 
snake,  mistaking  every  palmetto  root  for  a  serpent, 
until  she  leaned  forward  and  told  him  to  sight  along 
her  extended  arm.  Then  he  saw  a  dull  gray  fold  with 
out  any  glitter  to  it,  draped  motionless  over  a  palmetto 
root,  and  so  like  the  root  that  he  could  scarcely  believe 
it  anything  else. 

"That?" 

149 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Yes.     It's  as  thick  as  a  man's  arm." 

"  Is  it  a  moccasin  ?  " 

"  It  is ;  a  cotton-mouth." 

The  guide  drawled :  "  Ah  reckon  he's  asleep,  Miss 
Cahdhoss.  Ah'll  make  him  rare  up  'f  yew  say  so." 

"  Make  him  rear  up,"  suggested  Gray.  "  And 
stand  clear,  Hamil,  because  Shiela  must  shoot  quick  if 
he  slides  for  the  water." 

The  men  backed  their  nervously  snorting  horses, 
giving  her  room;  Stent  dismounted,  picked  up  a  pig 
nut,  and  threw  it  accurately.  Instantly  the  fat  mud- 
coloured  fold  slipped  over  the  root  and  a  head  appeared 
rising. straight  out  of  the  coils  up  into  the  air — a  flat 
and  rather  small  head  on  a  horribly  swollen  body, 
stump-tailed,  disgusting.  The  head  was  looking  at 
them,  stretched  high,  fully  a  third  of  the  creature  in 
the  air.  Then,  soundlessly,  the  wide- slit  ted  mouth 
opened;  and  Hamil  saw  its  silky  white  lining. 

u  Moccasins  stand  their  ground,"  said  the  girl,  rais 
ing  her  gun.  The  shot  crashed  out;  the  snake  col 
lapsed.  For  fully  a  minute  they  watched;  not  a  fold 
even  quivered. 

u  Struck  by  lightning,"  said  Gray ;  "  the  buzzards 
will  get  him."  And  he  drew  a  folding  butterfly  net 
from  his  saddle  boot,  affixed  ring  and  gauze  bag,  and 
cantered  forward  briskly  in  the  wake  of  a  great  vel 
vety  black  butterfly  wliich  was  sailing  under  the  live- 
oaks  above  his  head. 

His  father,  wishing  to  talk  to  Eudo  Stent,  rode 
ahead  with  the  guide,  leaving  Shiela  and  Hamil  to 
follow. 

The  latter  reined  in  and  waited  while  the  girl  lei 
surely  returned  the  fowling-piece  to  its  holster.  Then, 
together,  they  walked  their  horses  forward,  wading  the 

150 


TERRA    INCOGNITA 


"  branch  "  which  flowed  clear  as  a  trout  stream  out  of 
the  swamp  on  their  right. 

"  It  looks  drinkable,"  he  said. 

"  It  is,  for  Crackers ;  but  there's  fever  in  it  for  you, 
Mr.  Hamil.  .  .  .  Look  at  Gray !  He's  missed  his  but 
terfly.  But  it's  a  rather  common  one — the  black  form 
of  the  tiger  swallow-tail.  Just  see  those  zebra-striped 
butterflies  darting  like  lightning  over  the  palmetto 
scrub !  Gray  and  I  could  never  catch  them  until  one 
day  we  found  a  ragged  one  that  couldn't  fly  and  we 
placed  it  on  a  leaf ;  and  every  time  one  of  those  butter 
flies  came  our  way  it  paused  in  its  flight  for  a  second 
and  hovered  over  the  ragged  one.  And  that's  how 
Gray  and  I  caught  the  swift  Ajax  butterflies  for  his 
collection !  .  .  .  I've  helped  him  considerably,  if  you 
please;  I  brought  him  the  mysterious  Echo  moth  from 
Ormond,  and  a  wonderful  little  hornet  moth  from 
Jupiter  Inlet." 

She  was  rattling  on  almost  feverishly,  never  look 
ing  at  him,  restless  in  her  saddle,  shifting  bridle,  ad 
justing  stirrups,  gun-case,  knotting  and  reknotting 
her  neckerchief,  all  with  that  desperate  attempt  at  com 
posure  which  betrays  the  courage  that  summons  it. 

"  Shiela,  dear !  " 

"  What !  "  she  said,  startled  into  flushed  surprise. 

"  Look  at  me." 

She  turned  in  her  saddle,  the  colour  deepening  and 
waning  on  her  white  skin  from  neck  to  temples ;  and 
sustained  his  gaze  to  the  limit  of  endurance.  Then 
again  in  her  ears  sounded  the  soft  crash  of  her  senses; 
he  swung  wide  in  his  stirrups,  looking  recklessly  into 
her  eyes.  A  delicate  sense  of  intoxication  stilled  all 
speech  between  them  for  a  moment.  Then,  head  bowed, 
eyes  fixed  on  her  bridle  hand,  the  other  hand,  ungloved, 
11  151 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


lying  hotly  unresponsive  in  his,  she  rode  slowly  for 
ward  at  his  side.  Face  to  face  with  all  the  mad  un 
asked  questions  of  destiny  and  fate  and  chance  stifl 
before  her — all  the  cold  problems  of  truth  and  honour 
still  to  be  discussed  with  that  stirring,  painful  pulse  in 
her  heart  which  she  had  known  as  conscience — silently, 
head  bent,  she  rode  into  the  west  with  the  man  she  must 
send  away. 

Far  to  the  north-east,  above  a  sentinel  pine  which 
marks  the  outskirts  of  the  flat-woods,  streaks  like  smoke 
drifted  in  the  sky — the  wild-fowl  leaving  the  lagoons. 
On  the  Lantana  Road  they  drew  bridle  at  a  sign  from 
her;  then  she  wheeled  her  horse  and  sat  silent  in  her 
saddle,  staring  into  the  western  wilderness. 

The  character  of  the  country  had  changed  while 
they  had  been  advancing  along  this  white  sandy  road 
edged  with  jungle;  for  now  west  and  south  the  Florida 
wilderness  stretched  away,  the  strange  "  Flat-woods," 
deceptively  open,  almost  park-like  in  their  monotony 
where,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  glade  after  glade, 
edged  by  the  stately  vivid  green  pines,  opened  invit 
ingly  into  other  glades  through  endlessly  charming 
perspective.  At  every  step  one  was  prepared  to  come 
upon  some  handsome  mansion  centring  this  park — some 
bridge  spanning  the  shallow  crystal  streams  that  ran 
out  of  jasmine  thickets — some  fine  driveway  curving 
through  the  open  woods.  But  this  was  the  wilderness, 
uninhabited,  unplotted.  No  dwelling  stood  within  its 
vistas ;  no  road  led  out  or  in ;  no  bridge  curved  over  the 
silently  moving  waters.  West  and  south-west  into  the 
unknown  must  he  go  who  follows  the  lure  of  those 
peaceful,  sunny  glades  where  there  are  no  hills,  no  val 
leys,  nothing  save  trees  and  trees  and  trees  again,  and 
shallow  streams  with  jungle  edging  them,  and  lonely 

152 


TERRA    INCOGNITA 


lakes  set  with  cypress,  and  sunny  clearings,  never  made 
by  human  hands,  where  last  year's  grass,  shoulder-high, 
silvers  under  the  white  sun  of  the  South. 

Half  a  hundred  miles  westward  lay  the  great  inland 
lake;  south-west,  the  Everglades.  The  Hillsboro  trail 
ran  south-west  between  the  upper  and  lower  chain  of 
lakes,  orer  Little  Fish  Crossing,  along  the  old  Govern 
ment  trail,  and  over  the  Loxahatchi.  Westward  no  trail 
lay  save  those  blind  signs  of  the  Seminoles  across  the 
wastes  of  open  timber  and  endless  stretches  of  lagoon 
and  saw-grass  which  is  called  the  Everglades. 

On  the  edge  of  the  road  where  Hamil  sat  his  horse 
was  an  old  pump — the  last  indication  of  civilisation. 
He  dismounted  and  tried  it,  filling  his  cup  with  clear 
sparkling  water,  neither  hot  nor  cold,  and  walking 
through  the  sand  offered  it  to  Shiela  Cardross. 

"  Osceola's  font,"  she  nodded,  returning  from  her 
abstraction ;  "  thank  you,  I  am  thirsty.'*  And  she 
drained  the  cup  at  her  leisure,  pausing  at  moments  to 
look  into  the  west  as  though  the  wilderness  had  already 
laid  its  spell  upon  her. 

Then  she  looked  down  at  Hamil  beside  her,  handing 
him  the  cup. 

"  In-nah-cahpoor? "  she  asked  softly ;  and  as  he 
looked  up  puzzled  and  smiling :  "  I  asked  you,  in  Semi- 
nole,  what  is  the  price  I  have  to  pay  for  your  cup  of 
water?" 

u  A  little  love,"  he  said  quietly — "  a  very  little, 
Shiela." 

"  I  see ! — like  this  water,  neither  warm  nor  cold : 
nac-ey-tai? — what  do  you  call  it? — oh,  yes,  sisterly 
affection."  She  looked  down  at  him  with  a  forced 
smile.  "  Uncah"  she  said,  "  which  in  Seminole  means 
'  yes  *  to  your  demand.  .  .  .  You  don't  mind  if  I  re- 

153 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


lapse  into  the  lake  dialect  occasionally — do  3Tou? — espe 
cially  when  I'm  afraid  to  say  it  in  English."  And, 
gaining  confidence,  she  smiled  at  him,  the  faintest  hint 
of  tenderness  in  her  eyes.  "  Neither  warm  nor  cold — 
Haiee-Kasapil — like  this  Indian  well,  Mr.  Hamil;  but, 
like  it,  very  faithful — even  when  in  the  arid  days  to 
come  you  turn  to  drink  from  sweeter  springs." 

"Shiela!" 

"  Oh,  no — no !  "  she  breathed,  releasing  her  hands ; 
"  you  interrupt  me ;  I  was  thinking  ist-ahmali-inahhen 
— which  way  we  must  go.  Listen ;  we  leave  the  road 
yonder  where  Gray's  green  butterfly  net  is  bobbing 
above  the  dead  grass:  in-e-gitskah? — can't  you  see  it? 
And  there  are  dad  and  Stent  riding  in  line  with  that 
outpost  pine — ho-paiee !  Mount,  my  cavalier.  And  " 
— in  a  lower  voice — "  perhaps  you  also  may  hear  that 
voice  in  the  wilderness  which  cried  once  to  the  unwise." 

As  they  rode  girth-high  through  the  grass  the  first 
enchanting  glade  opened  before  them,  flanked  by  pal 
mettos  and  pines.  Gray  was  galloping  about  in  the 
woods  among  swarms  of  yellow  and  brown  butterflies, 
swishing  his  net  like  a  polo  mallet,  and  drawing  bridle 
every  now  and  then  to  examine  some  specimen  and 
drop  it  into  the  cyanide  jar  which  bulged  from  his 
pocket. 

"  I  got  a  lot  of  those  dog's-head  fellows !  "  he  called 
out  to  Shiela  as  she  came  past  with  Hamil.  "  You  re 
member  that  the  white  ants  got  at  my  other  specimens 
before  I  could  mount  them." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Shiela ;  "  don't  ride  too  hard 
in  the  sun,  dear."  But  Gray  saw  something  ahead  and 
shook  out  his  bridle,  and  soon  left  them  in  the  rear  once 
more,  riding  through  endless  glades  of  green  where 
there  was  no  sound  except  the  creak  of  leather  and  the 

154 


TERRA    INCOGNITA' 


continuous  popping  of  those  small  pods  on  the  seeds  of 
which  quail  feed. 

"  I  thought  there  were  no  end  of  gorgeous  flowers 
in  the  semi-tropics,"  he  said,  "  but  there's  almost  noth 
ing  here  except  green." 

She  laughed.  "  The  concentration  of  bloom  in 
Northern  hothouses  deceives  people.  The  semi-tropics 
and  the  tropics  are  almost  monotonously  green  except 
where  cultivated  gardens  exist.  There  are  no  masses  of 
flowers  anywhere;  even  the  great  brilliant  blossoms 
make  no  show  because  they  are  widely  scattered.  You 
notice  them  when  you  happen  to  come  across  them  in 
the  woods,  they  are  so  brilliant  and  so  rare." 

"  Are  there  no  fruits — those  delectable  fruits  one 
reads  about?  " 

"  There  are  bitter  wild  oranges,  sour  guavas,  eat 
able  beach-grapes  and  papaws.  If  you're  fond  of  wild 
cassava  and  can  prepare  it  so  it  won't  poison  you, 
you  can  make  an  eatable  paste.  If  you  like  oily  cab 
bage,  the  top  of  any  palmetto  will  furnish  it.  But,  my 
poor  friend,  there's  little  here  to  tempt  one's  appetite 
or  satisfy  one's  aesthetic  hunger  for  flowers.  Our 
Northern  meadows  are  far  more  gorgeous  from  June  to 
October ;  and  our  wild  fruits  are  far  more  delicious  than 
what  one  finds  growing  wild  in  the  tropics." 

"  But  bananas,  cocoa-nuts,  oranges " 

"All  cultivated!" 

"  Persimmons,  mulberries " 

"  All  cultivated  when  eatable.  Everything  palata 
ble  in  this  country  is  cultivated." 

He  laughed  dejectedly,  then,  again  insistent:  "  But 
there  are  plenty  of  wild  flowering  trees! — magnolia, 
poinciana,  china-berry " 

"  All  set  out  by  mere  man,"  she  smiled — "  except 
155 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


the  magnolias  and  dog-wood.  No,  Mr.  Hamil,  the 
riotous  tropical  bloom  one  reads  about  is  confined  to 
people's  gardens.  When  you  come  upon  jasmine  or  an 
orchid  in  the  woods  you  notice  the  colour  at  once  in 
the  green  monotony.  But  think  how  many  acres  of 
blue  and  white  and  gold  one  passes  in  the  North  with 
scarcely  a  glance!  The  South  is  beautiful  too,  in  its 
way ;  but  it  is  not  that  way.  Yet  I  care  for  it  even 
more,  perhaps,  than  I  do  for  the  North " 

The  calm,  even  tenor  of  the  speech  between  them 
was  reassuring  her,  although  it  was  solving  no  prob 
lems  which,  deep  in  her  breast,  she  knew  lay  latent, 
ready  to  quicken  at  any  instant. 

All  that  awaited  to  be  solved;  all  that  threatened 
between  her  and  her  heart  and  conscience,  now  lay 
within  her,  quiescent  for  the  moment.  And  it  was  from 
moment  to  moment  now  that  she  was  living,  blindly 
evading,  resolutely  putting  off  what  must  come  after 
that  relentless  self-examination  which  was  still  before 
her. 

The  transport  wagon  was  now  in  sight  ahead;  and 
Bulow,  one  of  the  guides,  had  released  a  brace  of  set 
ters,  casting  them  out  among  the  open  pines. 

Away  raced  the  belled  dogs,  jingling  into  the  saw- 
scrub  ;  and  Shiela  nodded  to  him  to  prepare  for  a  shot 
as  she  drew  her  own  gun  from  its  boot  and  loaded,  eyes 
still  following  the  distant  dogs. 

To  and  fro  raced  the  setters,  tails  low,  noses  up, 
wheeling,  checking,  quartering,  cutting  up  acres  and 
acres — a  stirring  sight ! — and  more  stirring  still  when 
the  blue-ticked  dog,  catching  the  body-scent,  slowed 
down,  flag  whipping  madly,  and  began  to  crawl  into 
the  wind. 

"You  and  Shiela!"  called  out  Cardross  as  they 
156 


TERRA   INCOGNITA 


trotted  up,  guns  resting  on  their  thighs.     u  Gray  and 
111  pick  up  the  singles." 

The  girl  sprang  to  the  ground,  gun  poised;  Hamil 
followed  her,  and  they  walked  across  the  sandy  open 
where  scarcely  a  tuft  of  dead  grass  bristled.  It  seemed 
impossible  that  any  living  creature  bigger  than  an  ant 
could  conceal  itself  on  that  bare,  arid  sand  stretch,  but 
the  ticked  dog  was  standing  rigid,  nose  pointing  al 
most  between  his  forefeet,  and  the  red  dog  was  back 
ing  him,  tail  like  a  ramrod,  right  forefoot  doubled, 
jaws  a-slaver. 

The  girl  glanced  sideways  at  Hamil  mischievously. 

"  What  are  we  shooting  for,  Mr.  Hamil  ?  " 

"  Anything  you  wish,"  he  said,  "  but  it's  yours 
anyway — all  I  can  give.  I  suppose  I'm  going  to 
miss." 

"  No ;  you  mustn't.  If  you're  out  of  practice  re 
member  to  let  them  get  well  away.  And  I  won't  shoot 
a  match  with  you  this  time.  Shall  I  flush  ?  " 

"  I'll  put  them  up.     Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Quite,  thank  you." 

He  stepped  up  beside  the  ticked  dog,  halted,  took 
one  more  step  beyond — whir-r-r!  and  the  startled  air 
was  filled  with  wings ;  and  crack !  crack !  crack-crack ! 
spoke  the  smokeless  powder. 

Two  quail  stopped  in  mid-air  and  pitched  downward. 

"O  Lord!"  said  Hamil,  "they're  not  my  birds. 
Shiela,  how  could  you  do  such  a  thing  under  my  very 
nose  and  in  sight  of  your  relatives  and  three  unfeeling 
guides ! " 

"  You  poor  boy !  "  she  said,  watching  the  bevy  as 
he  picked  up  the  curious,  dark,  little  Florida  quail  and 
displayed  them.  Then,  having  marked,  she  quietly  sig 
nalled  the  dogs  forward. 

157 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  I'm  not  going,"  he  said ;  "  I've  performed  suffi 
ciently." 

She  was  not  quite  sure  how  much  of  disappointment 
lay  under  his  pretence,  and  rather  shyly  she  suggested 
that  he  redeem  himself.  Gray  and  his  father  were 
walking  toward  one  dog  who  was  now  standing;  two 
quail  flushed  and  both  fell. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  lightly  on  his 
arm ;  "  Ticky  is  pointing  and  I  will  have  you  redeem 
yourself." 

So  they  went  forward,  shoulder  to  shoulder;  and 
three  birds  jumped  and  two  fell. 

"  Bravo !  "  she  exclaimed  radiantly ;  "  I  knew  my 
cavalier  after  all !  " 

"  You  held  your  fire,"  he  said  accusingly. 

"  Ye-s." 

"Why?" 

"  Because — if  you — "  She  raised  her  eyes  half  seri 
ous,  half  mockingly :  "  Do  you  think  I  care  for — any 
thing — at  your  expense?  " 

A  thrill  passed  through  him.  "  Do  you  think  I 
mind  if  you  are  the  better  of  us,  you  generous  girl?  " 

"  I  am  not  a  better  shot ;  I  really  am  not.  .  .  . 
Look  at  these  birds — both  cocks.  Are  they  not  funny 
— these  quaint  little  black  quail  of  the  semi-tropics  ? 
We'll  need  all  we  can  get,  too.  But  now  that  you 
are  your  resistless  self  again  I  shall  cease  to  dread 
the  alternative  of  starvation  or  a  resort  to  alligator 
tail." 

So  with  a  gay  exchange  of  badinage  they  took  their 
turns  when  the  dogs  rounded  up  singles ;  and  sometimes 
he  missed  shamefully,  and  sometimes  he  performed  with 
credit,  but  she  never  amended  his  misses  nor  did  more 
than  match  his  successes,  and  he  thought  that  in  all 

158 


TERRA    INCOGNITA 


his  life  he  had  never  witnessed  more  faultless  field 
courtesy  than  this  young  girl  instinctively  displayed. 
Nothing  in  the  world  could  have  touched  him  more 
keenly  or  convinced  him  more  thoroughly.  For  it  is  on 
the  firing  line  that  character  shows ;  a  person  is  what 
he  is  in  the  field — even  though  he  sometimes  neglects  to 
live  up  to  it  in  less  vital  moments. 

Generous  and  quick  in  her  applause,  sensitive  un 
der  his  failures,  cool  in  difficulties,  yielding  instantly 
the  slightest  advantage  to  him,  holding  her  fire  when 
singles  rose  or  where  there  could  be  the  slightest  doubt — 
that  was  his  shooting  companion  under  the  white  noon 
sun  that  day.  He  noticed,  too,  her  sweetness  with  the 
dogs,  her  quick  encouragement  when  work  was  well 
done,  her  brief  rebuke  when  the  red  dog,  galloping  reck 
lessly  down  wind,  jumped  a  ground-rattler  and  came 
within  a  hair's  breadth  of  being  bitten. 

"  The  little  devil !  "  said  Hamil,  looking  down  at  the 
twisting  reptile  which  he  had  killed  with  a  palmetto 
stem.  "  Why,  Shiela,  he  has  no  rattles  at  all." 

"  No,  only  a  button.  Dig  a  hole  and  bury  the  head. 
Fangs  are  always  fangs  whether  their  owner  is  dead 
or  alive." 

So  Hamil  scooped  out  a  trench  with  his  hunting- 
knife  and  they  buried  the  little  ground-rattler  while 
both  dogs  looked  on,  growling. 

Cardross  and  Gray  had  remounted;  Bulow  cast  out 
a  brace  of  pointers  for  them,  and  they  were  already 
far  away.  Presently  the  distant  crack  of  their  guns 
announced  that  fresh  bevies  had  been  found  beyond  the 
branch. 

The  guide,  Carter,  rode  out,  bringing  Shiela  and 
Hamil  their  horses  and  relieving  the  tatter's  pockets  of 
a  dozen  birds;  announcing  a  halt  for  luncheon  at  the 

159 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


same  time  in  a  voice  softly  neglectful  of  I's  and  !?'«, 
and  musical  with  aspirates. 

As  they  followed  him  slowly  toward  the  wagon  which 
stood  half  a  mile  away  under  a  group  of  noble  pines, 
Hamil  began  in  a  low  voice: 

"  I've  got  to  say  this,  Shiela:  I  never  saw  more 
perfect  sportsmanship  than  yours ;  and,  if  only  for  that, 
I  love  you  with  all  my  heart." 

"  What  'a  boyish  thing  to  say !  "  But  she  coloured 
deliciously. 

"  You  don't  care  whether  I  love  you — that  way,  do 
you?  "  he  asked  hopefully. 

"  N-no." 

"  Then — I  can  wait." 

She  turned  toward  him,  confused. 

"Wait?"  she  repeated. 

"  Yes — wait ;  all  my  life,  if  it  must  be." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  wait  for.  Don't  say  such 
things  to  me.  I — it's  difficult  enough  for  me  now — to 
think  what  to  do —  You  will  not  speak  to  me  again 
that  way,  will  you?  Because,  if  you  do,  I  must  send 
you  away.  .  .  .  And  that  will  be — hard." 

"  Once,"  he  said,  "  you  spoke  about  men — how  they 
come  crashing  through  the  barriers  of  friendship.  Am 
I  like  that?  " 

She  hesitated,  looked  at  him. 

"  There  were  no  barriers." 

"No  barriers!" 

"  None — to  keep  you  out.  I  should  have  seen  to  it ; 
I  should  have  been  prepared ;  but  you  came  so  naturally 
into  my  friendship — inside  the  barriers — that  I  opened 
my  eyes  and  found  you  there — and  remembered,  too  late, 
alas " 

"  Too  late?  " 

160 


TERRA   INCOGNITA 


"  Too  late  to  shut  you  out.  And  you  frightened 
me  last  night ;  I  tried  to  tell  you — for  your  own  sake ; 
I  was  terrified,  and  I  told  you  what  I  have  never  before 
told  a  living  soul — that  dreadful,  hopeless,  night 
mare  thing — to  drive  you  out  of  my — my  regard — and 
me  from  yours." 

His  face  whitened  a  little  under  its  tan,  but  the  flat 
jaw  muscles  tightened  doggedly. 

"  I  don't  understand — yet,"  he  said.  "  And  when 
you  tell  me — for  you  will  tell  me  sooner  or  later — it  will 
not  change  me." 

"  It  must !  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

She  said  in  desperation :  "  You  cannot  care  for  me 
too  much  because  you  know  that  I  am — not  free." 

"Cannot?"  He  laughed  mirthlessly.  "  I  am 
caring  for  you — loving  you — every  second  more  and 
more." 

"  That  is  dishonourable,"  she  faltered. 

"Why?" 

"  You  know !  " 

"  Yes.  But  if  it  does  not  change  me  how  can  I 
help  it?  " 

"  You  can  help  making  me  care  for  you  \  " 

His  heart  was  racing  now ;  every  vein  ran  fiery  riot. 

"  Is  there  a  chance  of  that,  Shiela?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  but  the  tragedy  in  her  slowly 
lifted  eyes  appalled  him.  Then  a  rushing  confusion  of 
happiness  and  pain  almost  stupefied  him. 

"  You  must  not  be  afraid,"  he  managed  to  say  while 
the  pulse  hammered  in  his  throat,  and  the  tumult  of  his 
senses  deadened  his  voice  to  a  whisper. 

"  I  am  afraid." 

They  were  near  the  wagon  now;  both  dismounted 
161 


THE   FIEING   LINE 


under  the  pines  while  Bulow  came  forward  to  picket 
their  horses.  On  their  way  together  among  the  trees 
she  looked  up  at  him  almost  piteously :  "  You  must  go 
if  you  talk  to  me  again  like  this.  I  could  not  endure 
very  much  of  it." 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do,"  he  said  in 
the  same  curiously  deadened  voice.  "  You  must  tell  me 
more." 

"  I  cannot.  I  am — uncertain  of  myself.  I  can't 
think  clearly  when  we — when  you  speak  to  me — this  way. 
Couldn't  you  go  North  before  I — before  my  unhappi- 
ness  becomes  too  real — too  hard? — couldn't  you  go  be 
fore  it  is  too  late — and  leave  me  my  peace  of  mind,  my 
common  sense !  " 

He  looked  around  at  her.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  will 
go  if  there  is  no  decent  chance  for  us ;  and  if  it  is  not 
too  late." 

"  I  have  my  common  senses  still  left.  It  is  not 
too  late." 

There  was  a  silence.  "  I  will  go,"  he  said  very 
quietly. 

"W-when?" 

"  The  day  we  return." 

"  Can  you  leave  your  work  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Halloran  knows." 

"  And — you  will  go?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  it." 

Another  silence.  Then  she  shook  her  head,  not  look 
ing  at  him. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  going — now." 

"Why?" 

"  Because — because  I  do  not  wish  it."  Her  eyes  fell 
lower ;  she  drew  a  long,  unsteady  breath.  "  And  because 
it  is  too  late,"  she  said.  "  You  should  have  gone  before 


TERRA    INCOGNITA 


I  ever  knew  you — if  I  was  to  be  spared  my  peace  of 
mind." 

Gray  came  galloping  back  through  the  woods,  fol 
lowed  by  his  father  and  Eudo  Stent.  They  were  rather 
excited,  having  found  signs  of  turkey  along  the  mud  of 
a  distant  branch ;  and,  as  they  all  gathered  around  a  cold 
luncheon  spread  beside  the  wagon,  a  lively  discussion  be 
gan  concerning  the  relative  chances  of  "  roosting  "  and 
"  yelping." 

Hamil  talked  as  in  a  dream,  scarcely  conscious  that 
he  was  speaking  and  laughing  a  great  deal.  A  heavenly 
sort  of  intoxication  possessed  him ;  a  paradise  of  divine 
unrealities  seemed  to  surround  him — Shiela,  the  cluster 
ing  pines,  the  strange  white  sunlight,  the  depthless 
splendour  of  the  unshadowed  blue  above. 

He  heard  vaguely  the  voices  of  the  others,  Cardross, 
senior,  rallying  Gray  on  his  shooting,  Gray  replying  in 
kind,  the  soft  Southern  voices  of  the  guides  at  their  own 
repast  by  the  picket  line,  the  stir  and  whisk  and  crunch 
of  horses  nuzzling  their  feed. 

Specks  moved  in  the  dome  of  heaven — buzzards. 
Below,  through  the  woods,  myriads  of  robins  were  flying 
about,  migrants  from  the  North. 

Gray  displayed  his  butterflies;  nothing  uncommon, 
except  a  black  and  green  one  seldom  found  north  of 
Miami — but  they  all  bent  over  the  lovely  fragile  crea 
tures,  admiring  the  silver-spangled  Dione  butterflies,  the 
great  velvety  black  Turnus ;  and  Shiela,  with  the  point 
of  a  dry  pine  needle,  traced  for  Hamil  the  grotesque 
dog's  head  on  the  fore  wings  of  those  lemon-tinted  but 
terflies  which  haunt  the  Florida  flat-woods. 

"  He'd  never  win  at  a  bench-show,"  observed  her 
father,  lighting  his  pipe — an  out-of-door  luxury  he  clung 
to.  "  Shiela,  you  little  minx,  what  makes  you  look  so  un- 

163 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


usually  pretty?  Probably  that  wild-west  rig  of  yours. 
Hamil,  I  hope  you  gave  her  a  few  points  on  grassing  a 
bird.  She's  altogether  too  conceited.  Do  you  know, 
once,  while  we  were  picking  up  singles,  a  razor-back  boar 
charged  us — or  more  probably  the  dogs,  which  were 
standing,  poor  devils.  And  upon  my  word  I  was  so  rat 
tled  that  I  did  the  worst  thing  possible — I  tried  to  kick 
the  dogs  loose.  Of  course  they  went  all  to  pieces,  and  I 
don't  know  how  it  might  have  fared  with  us  if  my  little 
daughter  had  not  calmly  bowled  over  that  boar  at  three 
paces  from  my  shin-bones !  " 

"  Dad  exaggerates,"  observed  the  girl  with  height 
ened  colour,  then  ventured  a  glance  at  Hamil  which  set 
his  heart  galloping ;  and  her  own  responded  to  the  tender 
pride  and  admiration  in  his  eyes. 

There  was  more  discussion  concerning  "  roosting  " 
versus  "  yelping  "  with  dire  designs  upon  the  huge  wild 
turkey-cock  whose  tracks  Gray  had  discovered  in  the 
mud  along  the  branch  where  their  camp  was  to  be  pitched. 

Seven  liens  and  youthful  gobblers  accompanied  this 
patriarch  according  to  Eudo  Stent's  calculations,  and 
Bulow  thought  that  the  Seminole  might  know  the  location 
of  the  roost ;  probably  deep  in  some  uninviting  swamp. 

But  there  was  plenty  of  time  to  decide  what  to  do 
when  they  reached  camp;  and  half  an  hour  later  they 
started,  wagon  and  all,  wheels  bumping  over  the  exposed 
oree  roots  which  infinitely  bored  the  well-behaved  dogs, 
squatting  forward,  heads  in  a  row,  every  nose  twitching 
at  the  subtle  forest  odours  that  only  a  dog  could  detect. 

Once  they  emitted  short  and  quickly  stifled  yelps  as 
a  'possum  climbed  leisurely  into  a  small  tree  and  turned 
to  inspect  the  strange  procession  which  was  invading 
his  wilderness.  And  Shiela  and  Hamil,  riding  behind 
the  wagon,  laughed  like  children. 

164 


TERRA    INCOGNITA 


Once  they  passed  under  a  heronry — a  rather  odorif 
erous  patch  of  dead  cypress  and  pines,  where  the  enor 
mous  nests  bulged  in  the  stark  tree-tops ;  and  once,  as 
they  rode  out  into  a  particularly  park-like  and  velvety 
glade,  five  deer  looked  up,  and  then  deliberately  started 
to  trot  across. 

"  We  need  that  venison !  "  exclaimed  Gray,  motioning 
for  his  gun  which  was  in  the  wagon.  Shiela  spurred  for 
ward,  launching  her  mount  into  a  gallop ;  Hamil's  horse 
followed  on  a  dead  run,  he  tugging  madly  at  the  buck 
shot  shell  in  his  web  belt;  and  away  they  tore  to  head 
the  deer.  In  Tain !  for  the  agile  herd  bounded  past 
far  out  of  shell-range  and  went  crashing  on  through 
the  jungle  of  the  branch;  and  Shiela  reined  in  and 
turned  her  flushed  face  to  Hamil  with  a  laugh  of  sheer 
delight. 

"Glorioua  sight,  wasn't  it?"  said  Hainil.  "I'm 
rather  glad  they  got  clear  of  us." 

"  So  am  I.    There  was  no  chance,  but  I  always  try." 

"  So  shall  I,"  he  said — "  whether  there  is  a  chance 
or  not." 

She  looked  up  quickly,  reading  his  meaning.  Then 
she  bent  over  the  gun  that  she  was  breaking,  extracted 
the  shells,  looped  them,  and  returned  the  weapon  to  its 
holster. 

Behind  them  her  father  and  brother  jeered  at  them 
for  their  failure,  Gray  being  particularly  offensive  in  as 
cribing  their  fiasco  to  bad  riding  and  buck-fever. 

A  little  later  Shiela' s  horse  almost  unseated  her,  leap 
ing  aside  and  into  the  jungle  as  an  enormous  black  snake 
coiled  close  in  front. 

"  Don't  shoot !  "  she  cried  out  to  Hamil,  mastering 
her  horse  and  forcing  him  past  the  big,  handsome,  harm 
less  reptile ;  "  nobody  shoots  black  snakes  or  buzzard* 

165 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


here.  Slip  your  gun  back  quickly  or  Gray  will  torment 
you." 

However,  Gray  had  seen,  and  kept  up  a  running  fire 
of  sarcastic  comment  which  made  Hamil  laugh  and  Shiela 
indignant. 

And  so  they  rode  along  through  the  rich  afternoon 
sunshine,  now  under  the  clustered  pines,  now  across 
glades  where  wild  doves  sprang  up  into  clattering  flight 
displaying  the  four  white  feathers,  or  pretty  little  ground 
doves  ran  fearlessly  between  the  horses'  legs. 

Here  and  there  a  crimson  cardinal,  crest  lifted,  sat 
singing  deliciously  on  some  green  bough ;  now  and  then 
a  summer  tanager  dropped  like  a  live  coal  into  the  deeper 
jungle.  Great  shiny  blue,  crestless  jays  flitted  over  the 
scrub ;  shy  black  and  white  and  chestnut  chewinks  flirted 
into  sight  and  out  again  among  the  heaps  of  dead  brush ; 
red-bellied  woodpeckers,  sticking  to  the  tree  trunks, 
turned  their  heads  calmly;  gray  lizards,  big,  ugly  red 
headed  lizards,  swift  slender  lizards  with  blue  tails  raced 
across  the  dry  leaves  or  up  tree  trunks,  making  even  more 
fuss  and  clatter  than  the  noisy  cinnamon- tinted  thrash 
ers  in  the  underbrush. 

Every  step  into  the  unknown  was  a  new  happiness ; 
there  was  no  silence  there  for  those  who  could  hear, 
no  solitude  for  those  who  could  see.  And  he  was  riding 
into  it  with  a  young  companion  who  saw  and  heard  and 
loved  and  understood  it  all.  Nothing  escaped  her;  no 
frail  air  plant  trailing  from  the  high  water  oaks,  no 
school  of  tiny  bass  in  the  shallows  where  their  horses 
splashed  through,  no  gopher  burrow,  no  foot  imprint 
of  the  little  wild  things  which  haunt  the  water's  edge  in 
forests. 

Her  eyes  missed  nothing;  her  dainty  close-set  ears 
heard  all — the  short,  dry  note  of  a  chewink,  the  sweet, 

166 


TERRA    INCOGNITA 


wholesome  song  of  the  cardinal,  the  thrilling  cries  of 
native  jays  and  woodpeckers,  the  heavenly  outpoured 
melody  of  the  Florida  wren,  perched  on  some  tiptop 
stem,  throat  swelling  under  the  long,  delicate,  upturned 
bill. 

Void  of  self-consciousness,  sweetly  candid  in  her  wis 
dom,  sharing  her  lore  with  him  as  naturally  as  she  lis 
tened  to  his,  small  wonder  that  to  him  the  wilderness  was 
paradise,  and  she  with  her  soft  full  voice,  a  native  guide. 
For  all  around  them  lay  an  enchanted  world  as  young 
as  they — the  world  is  never  older  than  the  young ! — and 
they  "  had  eyes  and  they  saw ;  ears  had  they  and  they 
heard  " — but  not  the  dead  echoes  of  that  warning  voice, 
alas !  calling  through  the  ancient  wilderness  of  fable. 


12 


CHAPTER    XI 

PATHFINDERS 

CONSIDERABLY  impressed  by  her  knowledge  he  was 
careful  not  to  embarrass  her  by  saying  so  too  seriously. 

"  For  a  frivolous  and  fashionable  girl  who  dance* 
cotillions,  drives  four,  plays  polo,  and  reviews  her  serious 
adorers  by  regiments,  you're  rather  perplexing,"  he 
said.  "  Of  course  you  don't  suppose  that  I  really 
believe  all  you  say  about  these  beasts  and  birds  and 
butterflies." 

"  What  has  disturbed  your  credulity  ?  "  she  laughed. 

"  Well,  that  rabbit  which  crossed  ahead,  for  one 
thing.  You  promptly  called  it  a  marsh  rabbit ! " 

"  Lepus  palustris"  she  nodded,  delighted. 

"  By  all  means,"  he  retorted,  pretending  offensive 
scepticism,  "  but  why  a  marsh  rabbit  ?  " 

"  Because,  monsieur,  its  tail  was  brown,  not  white. 
Didn't  you  notice  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk  that  way, 
but  I've  another  grievance.  All  these  holes  in  the  sand 
you  call  gopher  burrows  sometimes,  sometimes  sala 
mander  holes.  And  I  saw  a  thing  like  a  rat  run  into 
one  of  them  and  a  thing  like  a  turtle  run  into  another 
and  I  think  I've  got  you  now " 

Her  delightful  laughter  made  the  forest  silence  rrw- 
sical. 

"  You  poor  boy !  No  wonder  your  faith  is  strained. 
168 


PATHFINDERS 


The  Crackers  call  the  gopher  a  salamander,  and  they 
also  call  the  land  turtle  a  gopher.  Their  burrows  are 
alike  and  usually  in  the  same  neighbourhood." 

"  Well,  what  I  want  to  know  is  where  you  had  time 
to  learn  all  this  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  From  my  tame  Seminole,  if  you  please/' 

"Your  Seminole!" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  my  dear,  barelegged,  be-turbaned 
Seminole,  Little  Tiger.  I  am  now  twenty,  Mr.  Hamil; 
for  ten  years  every  winter  he  has  been  with  us  on  our 
expeditions.  A  week  before  we  start  Eudo  Stent  goes 
to  the  north-west  edge  of  the  Everglades,  and  makes 
smoke  talk  until  he  gets  a  brief  answer  somewhere  on 
the  horizon.  And  always,  when  we  arrive  in  camp,  a 
Seminole  fire  is  burning  under  a  kettle  and  before  it  sits 
my  Little  Tiger  wearing  a  new  turban  and  blinking 
through  the  smoke  haze  like  a  tree-lynx  lost  in 
thought." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  this  aboriginal  admirer  of 
yours  has  already  come  out  of  the  Everglades  to  meet 
you  at  your  camp  ?  " 

"  Surely  he  is  there,  waiting  at  this  moment,"  she 
said.  "  I'd  as  soon  doubt  the  stars  in  their  courses  as 
the  Seminole,  Coacochee.  And  you  will  see  very  soon, 
now,  because  we  are  within  a  mile  of  camp." 

"  Within  a  mile !  "  he  scoffed.  "  How  do  you  know  ? 
For  the  last  two  hours  these  woods  and  glades  have 
all  looked  precisely  alike  to  me.  There's  no  trail,  no 
blaze,  no  hills,  no  valleys,  no  change  in  vegetation,  not 
the  slightest  sign  that  I  can  discover  to  warrant  any 
conclusion  concerning  our  whereabouts ! " 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed  deliciously. 

"  My  pale-face  brother,"  she  said,  **  do  you  see  thai 
shell  mound?  " 

169 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


"  Is  that  hump  of  rubbish  a  shell  mound  ?  "  he  de 
manded  scornfully. 

"  It  certainly  is;  did  you  expect  a  pyramid?  Well, 
then,  that  is  the  first  sign,  and  it  means  that  we  are 
very  near  camp.  .  .  .  And  can  you  not  smell  cedar 
smoke?  " 

"  Not  a  whiff ! "  he  said  indignantly. 

"  Can't  you  even  see  it  ?  " 

"  Where  in  Heaven's  name,  Shiela  ?  " 

Her  arm  slanted  upward  across  his  saddle :  "  That 
pine  belt  is  too  blue;  do  you  notice  it  now?  That  is 
smoke,  my  obstinate  friend." 

"  It's  more  probably  swamp  mist ;  I  think  you're 
only  a  pretty  counterfeit ! "  he  said,  laughing  as  he 
caught  the  volatile  aroma  of  burning  cedar.  But  he 
wouldn't  admit  that  she  knew  where  she  was,  even  when 
she  triumphantly  pointed  out  the  bleached  skull  of  an 
alligator  nailed  to  an  ungainly  black-jack.  So  they 
rode  on,  knee  to  knee,  he  teasing  her  about  her  pre 
tended  woodcraft,  she  bantering  him;  but  in  his  lively 
skirmishes  and  her  disdainful  retorts  there  was  always 
now  an  undertone  which  they  both  already  had  begun 
to  detect  and  listen  for:  the  unconscious  note  of  ten 
derness  sounding  at  moments  through  the  fresh,  quick 
laughter  and  gayest  badinage. 

But  under  all  her  gaiety,  at  moments,  too,  the  dull 
nlarm  sounded  in  her  breast ;  vague  warning  lest  her 
heart  be  drifting  into  deeper  currents  where  perils  lay 
uncharted  and  unknown. 

With  every  intimate  and  silent  throb  of  warning 
she  shivered,  responsive,  masking  her  growing  uncer 
tainty  with  words.  And  all  the  while,  deep  in  her  un 
folding  soul,  she  was  afraid,  afraid.  Not  of  this  man ; 
not  of  herself  as  she  had  been  yesterday.  She  was 

170 


PATHFINDERS 


afraid  of  the  unknown  in  her,  yet  un revealed,  quicken 
ing  with  instincts  the  parentage  of  which  she  knew 
nothing.  What  might  be  these  instincts  of  inherit 
ance,  how  ominous  their  power,  their  trend,  she  did 
not  know;  from  whom  inherited  she  could  never,  never 
know.  Would  engrafted  and  acquired  instincts  aid 
her ;  would  training  control  this  unknown  heritage  from 
a  father  and  a  mother  whose  very  existences  must  al 
ways  remain  without  concrete  meaning  to  her? 

Since  that  dreadful  day  two  years  ago  when  a  word 
spoken  inadvertently,  perhaps  maliciously,  by  Mrs. 
Van  Dieman,  made  it  necessary  that  she  be  told  the 
truth ;  since  the  dazed  horror  of  that  revelation  when, 
beside  herself  with  grief  and  shame,  she  had  turned 
blindly  to  herself  for  help;  and,  childish  impulse  an 
swering,  had  hurled  her  into  folly  unutterable,  she  had, 
far  in  the  unlighted  crypt  of  her  young  soul,  feared 
this  unknown  sleeping  self,  its  unfolded  intelligence,  its 
passions  unawakened. 

Through  many  a  night,  wet-eyed  in  darkness,  she 
had  wondered  whose  blood  it  was  that  flowed  so  warmly 
in  her  veins ;  what  inherited  capacity  for  good  and  evil 
her  soul  and  body  held ;  whose  eyes  she  had ;  whose  hair, 
and  skin,  and  hands,  and  who  in  the  vast  blank  world 
had  given  colour  to  these  eyes,  this  skin  and  hair,  and 
shaped  her  fingers,  her  mouth,  her  limbs,  the  delicate 
rose-tinted  nails  whitening  in  the  clinched  palm  as  she 
lay  there  on  her  bed  at  night  awake. 

The  darkness  was  her  answer. 

And  thinking  of  these  things  she  sighed  uncon 
sciously. 

"What  is  it,  Shiela?"  he  asked. 

"  Nothing ;  I  don't  know — the  old  pain,  I  suppose.*5 

"  Pain  ?  "  he  repeated  anxiously. 
171 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


"  No ;  only  apprehension.  You  know,  don't  you? 
Well,  then,  it  is  nothing;  don't  ask  me."  And,  noting 
the  quick  change  in  his  face — "  No,  no ;  it  is  not  what 
you  think.  How  quickly  you  are  hurt!  My  appre 
hension  is  not  about  you ;  it  concerns  myself.  And  it  is 
quite  groundless.  I  know  what  I  must  do ;  I  know !  " 
she  repeated  bitterly.  "  And  there  will  always  be  a 
straight  path  to  the  end;  clear  and  straight,  until  I 
go  out  as  nameless  as  I  came  in  to  all  this.  .  .  .  Don't 
touch  my  hand,  please.  .  .  .  I'm  trying  to  think.  .  .  . 
I  can't,  if  we  are  in  contact.  .  .  .  And  you  don't  know 
who  you  are  touching ;  and  I  can't  tell  you.  Only  two 
in  all  the  world,  if  they  are  alive,  could  tell  you.  And 
they  never  will  tell  you — or  tell  me — why  they  left  me 
here  alone." 

With  a  little  shiver  she  released  her  hand,  looking 
straight  ahead  of  her  for  a  few  moments,  then,  uncon 
sciously  up  into  the  blue  overhead. 

"  I  shall  love  you  always,"  he  said.  "  Right  or 
nrrong,  always.  Remember  that,  too,  when  you  think 
of  these  things." 

She  turned  as  though  slowly  aroused  from  abstrac 
tion,  then  shook  her  head. 

"  It's  very  brave  and  boyish  of  you  to  be  loyal " 

"  You  speak  to  me  as  though  I  were  not  years  older 
than  you !  " 

"  I  can't  help  it ;  I  am  old,  old,  sometimes,  and 
tired  of  an  isolation  no  one  can  break  for  me." 

"  If  you  loved  me " 

"  How  can  I?    You  know  I  cannot ! " 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  love  me  ?  " 

She  blushed  crimson,  saying :  "  If  I — if  such  a  mis 
fortune " 

"  Such  a  misfortune  as  your  loving  me?" 


PATHFINDERS 


"  Yes ;  if  it  came,  I  would  never,  never  admit  it ! 
Why  do  you  say  these  tilings  to  me?  Won't  you  un 
derstand?  I've  tried  so  hard — so  hard  to  warn  you!" 
The  colour  flamed  in  her  cheeks ;  a  sort  of  sweet  anger 
possessed  her. 

"  Must  I  tell  you  more  than  I  have  told  before  you 
can  comprehend  the  utter  impossibility  of  any — love — 
between  us  ?  " 

His  hand  fell  over  hers  and  held  it  crushed. 

"  Tell  me  no  more,"  he  said,  "  until  you  can  tefl 
me  that  you  dare  to  love ! " 

"What  do  you  mean?  Do  you  mean  that  a  girl 
does  not  do  a  dishonourable  thing  because  she  dares 
not? — a  sinful  thing  because  she's  afraid?  If  it  were 
only  that — "  She  smiled,  breathless.  "  It  is  not 
fear.  It  is  that  a  girl  can  not  love  where  love  is  for 
bidden." 

"  And  you  believe  that  ?  " 

"  Believe  it !  " — in  astonishment. 

"Yes;  do  you  believe  it?" 

She  had  never  before  questioned  it.  Dazed  by  his 
impatience,  dismayed,  she  affirmed  it  again,  mechan 
ically.  And  the  first  doubt  entered  as  she  spoke,  con 
fusing  her,  awakening  a  swarm  of  little  latent  ideas 
and  misgivings,  stirring  memories  of  half-uttered  sen 
tences  checked  at  her  entrance  into  a  room,  veiled  allu 
sions,  words,  nods,  that  she  remembered  but  had  never 
understood.  And,  somehow,  his  question  seemed  a  key 
to  this  cipher,  innocently  retained  in  the  unseen  brain- 
cells,  stored  up  without  suspicion — almost  without  curi 
osity. 

For  all  her  recent  eloquence  upon  unhappiness  and 
divorce,  it  came  to  her  now  in  some  still  subtle  man 
ner,  that  she  had  been  speaking  concerning  things  in 

173 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


the  world  of  which  she  knew  nothing.  And  one  of 
them,  perhaps,  was  love. 

Then  every  instinct  within  her  revolted,  all  her  in 
nate  delicacy,  all  the  fastidious  purity  recoiled  before 
the  menace  of  his  question.  Love!  Was  it  possible? 
Was  this  that  she  already  felt,  love?  Could  such 
treachery  to  herself,  such  treason  to  training  and  in 
stinct  arise  within  her  and  she  not  know  it? 

Panic-stricken  she  raised  her  head;  and  at  sight 
of  him  a  blind  impulse  to  finish  with  him  possessed  her — 
to  crush  out  that  menace — end  it  for  ever — open  his 
eyes  to  the  inexorable  truth. 

"  Lean  nearer,"  she  said  quietly.  Every  vestige  of 
blood  had  left  her  face. 

"  Listen  to  me.  Two  years  ago  I  was  told  that  I 
am  a  common  foundling.  Under  the  shock  of  that — 
disclosure  —  I  ruined  my  life  for  ever.  .  .  .  Don't 
speak !  I  mean  to  check  that  ruin  where  it  ended — 
lest  it  spread  to — others.  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  No,"  he  said  doggedly. 

She  drew  a  steady  breath.  "  Then  I'll  tell  you 
more  if  I  must.  I  ruined  my  'life  for  ever  two  years 
ago!  ...  I  must  have  been  quite  out  of  my  senses — 
they  had  told  me  that  morning,  very  tenderly  and  piti 
fully — what  you  already  know.  I — it  was — unbear 
able.  The  world  crashed  down  around  me — horror, 
agonized  false  pride,  sheer  terror  for  the  future " 

She  choked  slightly,  but  went  on : 

"  I  was  only  eighteen.  I  wanted  to  die.  I  meant 
to  leave  my  home  at  any  rate.  Oh,  I  know  my  reason 
ing  was  madness,  the  thought  of  their  charity — the 
very  word  itself  as  my  mind  formed  it — drove  me 
almost  insane.  I  might  have  known  it  was  love,  not 
charity,  that  held  me  so  safely  in  their  hearts.  But 

1.74 


PATHFINDERS 


when  a  blow  falls  and  reason  goes — how  can  a  girl 
reason?  " 

She  looked  down  at  her  bridle  hand. 

"  There  was  a  man,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice ;  "  he 
>vas  only  a  boy  then." 

Hamil's  face  hardened. 

"  Until  he  asked  me  I  never  supposed  any  man 
could  ever  want  to  marry  me.  I  took  it  for  granted. 
.  .  .  Pie  was  Gray's  friend;  I  had  always  known  him. 
.  .  .  He  had  been  silly  sometimes.  He  asked  me  to 
marry  him.  Then  he  asked  me  again. 

"  I  was  a  debutante  that  winter,  and  we  were  re 
hearsing  some  theatricals  for  charity  which  I  had  to  go 
through  with.  .  .  .  And  he  asked  me  to  marry  him.  I 
told  him  what  I  was  and  he  still  wished  it." 

Hamil  bent  nearer  from  his  saddle,  face  tense  and 
colourless. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  I  thought ;  I  had  a 
dim  notion  of  escaping  from  the  disgrace  of  being 
nameless.  It  was  the  mad  clutch  of  the  engulfed  at 
anything.  .  .  .  Not  with  any  definite  view — partly 
from  fright,  partly  I  think  for  the  sake  of  those  who 
had  been  kind  to  a — a  foundling;  some  senseless  idea 
that  it  was  my  duty  to  relieve  them  of  a  squalid  bur 
den — "  She  shook  her  head  vaguely :  "  I  don't  know 
exactly — I  don't  know." 

66  You  married  him." 

"  Yes— I  believe  so." 

"Don't  you  know?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  wearily,  "  I  know  what  I  did. 
It  was  that." 

And  after  he  had  waited  for  her  in  silence  for  fully 
a  minute  she  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"  I  was  very  lonely,  very,  very  tired ;  he  urged  me ; 
175 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


I  had  been  crying.  I  have  seldom  cried  since.  It  is 
curious,  isn't  it?  I  can  feel  the  tears  in  my  eyes  at 
night  sometimes.  But  they  never  fall." 

She  passed  her  gloved  hand  slowly  across  her  fore 
head  and  eyes. 

"  I — married  him.  At  first  I  did  not  know  what 
to  do;  did  not  realise,  understand.  I  scarcely  do  yet. 
I  had  supposed  I  was  to  go  to  mother  and  dad  and 
tell  them  that  I  had  a  name  in  the  world — that  all  was 
well  with  me  at  last.  But  I  could  not  credit  it  my 
self  ;  the  boy — I  had  known  him  always — went  and  came 
in  our  house  as  freely  as  Gray.  And  I  could  not  con 
vince  myself  that  the  thing  that  had  happened  was 
serious— had  really  occurred." 

"How  did  it  occur?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  exactly.  We  were  walking  home, 
all  of  us,  along  Fifth  Avenue,  that  winter  afternoon. 
The  avenue  was  gay  and  densely  crowded;  and  I  re 
member  the  furs  I  wore  and  the  western  sunset  crim 
soning  the  cross-streets,  and  the  early  dusk — and  Jessie 
ahead  with  Cecile  and  the  dogs.  And  then  he  said  that 
now  was  the  time,  for  he  was  going  back  to  college  that 
same  day,  and  would  not  return  before  Easter — and  he 
urged  it,  and  hurried  me — and — I  couldn't  think;  and 
I  went  with  him,  west,  I  believe — yes,  the  sky  was  red 
over  the  river — west,  two  blocks,  or  more.  .  .  .  There 
was  a  parsonage.  It  lasted  only  a  few  minutes.  .  .  . 
We  took  the  elevated  to  Fifty-ninth  Street  and  hur 
ried  east,  almost  running.  They  had  just  reached 
the  Park  and  had  not  yet  missed  us.  ...  And  that 
is  all." 

"All?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  raising  her  pale  face  to  kis. 
"  What  more  is  there?  » 

176 


PATHFINDERS 


u  The— man." 

"  He  was  as  frightened  as  I,"  she  said  simply, 
"  and  he  went  back  to  college  that  same  evening. 
And  when  I  had  become  still  more  frightened  and  a 
little  saner  I  wrote  asking  him  if  it  was  really  true. 
It  was.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing  to  do;  I  had  no 
money,  nor  had  he.  And  there  was  no  love — because 
I  could  not  endure  even  his  touch  or  suffer  the  least 
sentiment  from  him  when  he  came  back  at  Easter.  He 
was  a  boy  and  silly.  He  annoyed  me.  I  don't  know 
why  he  persisted  so;  and  finally  I  became  thoroughly 
exasperated,  .  .  .  We  did  not  part  on  very  friendly 
terms;  and  I  think  that  was  why  he  did  not  return 
to  us  from  college  when  he  graduated.  A  man  offered 
him  a  position,  and  he  went  away  to  try  to  make  a 
place  for  himself  in  the  world.  And  after  he  had  gone, 
somehow  the  very  mention  of  his  name  began  to  chill 
me.  You  see  nobody  knew.  The  deception  became  a 
shame  to  me,  then  a  dull  horror.  But,  little  by  little, 
not  seeing  him,  and  being  young,  after  a  year  the  un 
reality  of  it  all  grew  stronger,  and  it  seemed  as  though 
I  were  awaking  from  a  nightmare,  among  familiar 
things  once  more.  .  .  .  And  for  a  year  it  has  been  so, 
though  at  night,  sometimes,  I  still  lie  awake.  But  I 
have  been  contented — until — you  came.  .  .  .  Now  you 
know  it  all." 

"  All?  " 

"  Every  word.  And  now  you  understand  why  I 
cannot  care  for  you,  or  you  for  me." 

He  said  in  a  deadened  voice :  "  There  is  a  law  that 
deals  with  that  sort  of  man " 

"What  are  you  saying?"  she  faltered. 

"  That  you  cannot  remain  bound !     Its  monstrous. 

There  is  a  law " 

177 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  I  cannot  disgrace  dad !  "  she  said.  "  There  is  no 
chance  that  way!  I'd  rather  die  than  have  him  know 
— have  mother  know — and  Jessie  and  Cecile  and  Gray ! 
Didn't  you  understand  that  ?  " 

"  You  must  tell  them  nevertheless,  and  they  must 
help  you." 

"Help  me?" 

"  To  free  yourself " 

Flushed  with  anger  and  disdain  she  drew  bridle  and 
faced  him. 

"  If  this  is  the  sort  of  friendship  you  bring  me, 
what  is  your  love  worth?  "  she  asked  almost  fiercely. 
"  And — I  cared  for  you — cared  for  the  man  I  believed 
you  to  be ;  bared  my  heart  to  you — wrung  every  secret 
from  it — thinking  you  understood!  And  you  turn  on 
me  counselling  the  law,  divorce,  horrors  unthinkable ! — 
because  you  say  you  love  me !  .  .  .  And  I  tell  you  that 
if  I  loved  you — dearly — blindly — I  could  not  endure  to 
free  myself  at  the  expense  of  pain — to  them — even  for 
your  sake!  They  took  me,  nameless,  as  I  was — a — a 
foundling.  If  they  ever  learn  what  I  have  done  I  shall 
ask  their  pardon  on  my  knees,  and  accept  life  with  the 
man  I  married.  But  if  they  never  learn  I  shall  remain 
with  them — always.  You  have  asked  me  what  chance 
you  have.  Now  you  know !  It  is  useless  to  love  me.  I 
cared  enough  for  you  to  try  to  kill  what  you  call  love 
last  night.  I  cared  enough  to-day  to  strip  my  heart 
naked  for  you — to  show  you  there  was  no  chance.  If 
J  have  done  right  or  wrong  I  do  not  know — but  I  did 
jjt  for  your  sake." 

His  face  reddened  painfully,  but  as  he  offered  no 
reply  she  put  her  horse  in  motion  and  rode  on,  proud 
little  head  averted.  For  a  few  minutes  neither  he  nor 
she  spoke,  their  horses  pacing  neck  and  neck  through 

178 


PATHFINDERS 


the  forest.  At  last  he  said :  "  You  are  right,  Shiela ; 
I  am  not  worth  it.  Forgive  me." 

She  turned,  eyes  level  and  fearless.  Suddenly  her 
mouth  quivered. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said  impulsively ;  "  you  are 
worth  more  than  I  dare  give  you.  Love  me  in  your 
own  fashion.  I  wish  it.  And  I  will  care  for  you  very 
faithfully  in  mine." 

They  were  very  young,  very  hopeless,  deeply  im 
pressed  with  one  another,  and  quite  inexperienced 
enough  to  trust  each  other.  She  leaned  from  her  sad 
dle  and  laid  her  slim  bare  hands  in  both  of  his,  lifting 
her  gaze  bravely  to  his — a  little  dim  of  eye  and  still 
tremulous  of  lip.  And  he  looked  back,  love's  tragedy 
dawning  in  his  gaze,  yet  forcing  the  smile  that  the 
very  young  employ  as  a  defiance  to  destiny  and  an 
artistic  insult  in  the  face  of  Fate;  that  Fate  which 
looks  back  so  placid  and  unmoved. 

"  Can  you  forgive  me,  Shiela  ?  " 

"  Look  at  me?  "  she  whispered. 

A  few  moments  later  she  hastily  disengaged  her 
hand. 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  fire,  yonder,"  he  said ;  "  and 
somebody  seated  before  it ;  your  Seminole,  I  think.  By 
Jove,  Shiela,  he's  certainly  picturesque !  " 

A  sullen-eyed  Indian  rose  as  they  rode  up, 
his  turban  brilliant  in  the  declining  sunshine,  his 
fringed  leggings  softly  luminous  as  woven  cloth  of 
gold. 

"  He  —  a  —  mah,  Coacochee !  "  said  the  girl  in 
friendly  greeting.  "  It  is  good  to  see  you,  Little 
Tiger.  The  people  of  the  East  salute  the  Uchee 
Seminoles." 

179 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


The  Indian  answered  briefly  and  with  dignity,  then 
stood  impassive,  not  noticing  Hamil. 

u  Mr.  Hamil,"  she  said,  "  this  is  my  old  friend 
Coacochee  or  Little  Tiger ;  an  Okichobi  Seminole  of  the 
Clan  of  the  Wind ;  a  brave  hunter  and  an  upright  man." 

"  Sommus-Kala-ne-sha-ma-lin,"  said  the  Indian  qui 
etly  ;  and  the  girl  interpreted :  "  He  says,  '  Good  wishes 
to  the  white  man.'  " 

Hamil  dismounted,  turned  and  lifted  Shiela  from 
her  saddle,  then  walked  straight  to  the  Seminole  and 
offered  his  hand.  The  Indian  grasped  it  in  silence. 

"  I  wish  well  to  Little  Tiger,  a  Seminole  and  a 
brave  hunter,"  said  Hamil  pleasantly. 

The  red  hand  and  the  white  hand  tightened  and  fell 
apart. 

A  moment  later  Gray  came  galloping  up  with  Eudo 
Stent 

"  How  are  you,  Coacochee !  "  he  called  out ;  "  glad 
to  see  you  again!  We  saw  the  pine  tops  blue  a  mile 
back." 

To  which  the  Seminole  replied  with  composure  in 
terse  English.  But  for  Mr.  Cardross,  when  he  arrived, 
there  was  a  shade  less  reserve  in  the  Indian's  greeting, 
and  there  was  no  mistaking  the  friendship  between 
them. 

"  Why  did  you  speak  to  him  in  his  own  tongue  ?  " 
asked  Hamil  of  Shiela  as  they  strolled  together  toward 
the  palmetto-thatched,  open-face  camp  fronting  on 
Ruffle  Lake. 

"  He  takes  it  as  a  compliment,"  she  said.  "  Be 
sides  he  taught  me." 

"  It's  a  pretty  courtesy,"  said  Hamil,  "  but  you 
always  do  everything  more  graciously  than  anybody 
else  in  the  world." 

180 


PATHFINDERS 


"  I  am  afraid  you  are  biassed." 

"  Can  any  man  who  knows  you  remain  non-partisan  ? 
— even  your  red  Seminole  yonder?  " 

"  I  am  proud  of  that  conquest,"  she  said  gaily. 
"  Do  you  know  anything  about  the  Seminoles  ?  No  ? 
Well,  then,  let  me  inform  you  that  a  Seminole  rarely 
speaks  to  a  white  man  except  when  trading  at  the  posts. 
They  are  a  very  proud  people;  they  consider  them 
selves  still  unconquered,  still  in  a  state  of  rebellion 
against  the  United  States." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Hamil,  astonished. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  All  these  years  of  peace  they  con 
sider  only  as  an  armed  truce.  They  are  proud,  reti 
cent,  sensitive,  suspicious  people;  and  there  are  few 
cases  on  record  where  any  such  thing  as  friendship  has 
existed  between  a  Seminole  and  a  white  man.  This  is 
a  genuine  case;  Coacochee  is  really  devoted  to  dad." 

The  guides  and  the  wagon  had  now  arrived;  camp 
was  already  in  the  confusion  and  bustle  of  unloading 
equipage  and  supplies;  picket  lines  were  established, 
water- jars  buried,  blankets  spread,  guns,  ammunition, 
rods,  and  saddles  ranged  in  their  proper  places. 

Carter  unsheathed  his  heavy  cane-knife  and  cut 
palmetto  fans  for  rethatching  where  required;  Eudo 
Stent  looked  after  the  horses ;  Bulow's  axe  rang  among 
the  fragrant  red  cedars ;  the  Indian  squatted  gravely 
before  a  characteristic  Seminole  fire  built  of  logs,  radi 
ating  like  the  spokes  of  a  cart-wheel  from  the  centre 
which  was  a  hub  of  glowing  coals.  And  whenever  it 
was  necessary  he  simply  shoved  the  burning  log-ends 
toward  the  centre  where  kettles  were  already  boiling 
and  sweet  potatoes  lay  amid  the  white  ashes,  and  a 
dozen  wild  ducks,  split  and  skewered  and  basted  with 
pork,  were  exhaling  a  matchless  fragrance. 

181 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Table-legs,  bench-legs,  and  the  bases  of  all  culinary 
furniture,  like  the  body  of  the  camp,  were  made  out  of 
palmetto  logs  driven  into  the  ground  to  support  cedar 
planks  for  the  tops. 

And  it  was  seated  at  one  of  these  tables,  under  the 
giant  oaks,  pines,  and  palmettos,  that  Shiela  and 
Hamil  ate  their  first  camp-repast  together,  with  Gray 
and  his  father  opposite. 

Never  had  he  tasted  such  a  heavenly  banquet,  never 
had  lie  dreamed  of  such  delicacies.  Eudo  Stent  brought 
panfuls  of  fried  bass,  still  sizzling  under  the  crisp 
bacon ;  and  great  panniers  woven  of  green  palmetto, 
piled  high  with  smoking  sweet  potatoes  all  dusty  from 
the  ashes;  and  pots  of  coffee  and  tea,  steaming  and 
aromatic. 

Then  came  broiled  mallard  duck,  still  crackling 
from  the  coals,  and  coonti  bread,  and  a  cold  salad  of 
palm  cabbage,  nut-flavored,  delectable.  Then  in  the 
thermos- jugs  were  spring  water  and  a  light  German 
vintage  to  mix  with  it.  And  after  everything,  fresh 
oranges  in  a  nest  of  Spanish  moss. 

Red  sunlight  struck  through  the  forest,  bronzing 
bark  and  foliage;  sombre  patches  of  shade  passed  and 
repassed  across  the  table — the  shadows  of  black  vul 
tures  soaring  low  above  the  camp  smoke.  The  waters 
of  the  lake  burned  gold. 

As  yet  the  approach  of  sunset  had  not  stirred  the 
water-fowl  to  restlessness;  dark  streaks  on  the  lake 
gleamed  white  at  moments  as  some  string  of  swimming 
ducks  turned  and  the  light  glinted  on  throat  and 
breast.  Herons  stood  in  the  shallows ;  a  bittern, 
squawking,  rose  from  the  saw-grass,  circled,  and  pitched 
downward  again. 

"  This  is  a  peaceful  place,"  said  Cardross,  narrow* 
182 


PATHFINDERS 


ing  eyes  watching  the  lake  through  the  haze  of  his 
pipe.  "  I  almost  hate  to  disturb  it  with  a  gun-shot ; 
but  if  we  stay  here  we've  got  to  eat."  And,  turning 
toward  the  guides'  table  where  they  lounged  over  their 
after-dinner  pipes :  "  Coacochee,  my  little  daughter 
has  never  shot  a  wild  turkey.  Do  you  think  she  had 
better  try  this  evening  or  go  after  the  big  duck  ?  " 

"  Pen-ni-chah,"  said  the  Seminole  quietly. 

"  He  says,  '  turkey-gobbler,'  "  whispered  Shiela  to 
Hamil ;  "  '  pen-nit-kee  '  is  the  word  for  hen  turkey.  Oh, 
I  hope  I  have  a  chance.  You'll  pair  with  me,  won't 
your" 

"  Of  course." 

Cardross,  listening,  smiled.  "  Is  it  yelping  or 
roosting,  Little  Tiger?" 

"  Roost  um  pen-ni-chah,  aw-tee-tus-chee.  I-hoo-es- 
chay." 

"  He  says  that  we  can  roost  them  by  and  by  and 
that  we  ought  to  start  now,"  whispered  the  girl,  slightly 
excited.  "  Dad,  Mr.  Hamil  has  never  shot  a  wild 
turkey " 

"  Neither  have  I,"  observed  her  father  humourously. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot !    Well,  then— why  can't  we  all " 

"  Not  much !  No  sitting  in  swamps  for  me,  but  a 
good,  clean,  and  easy  boat  in  the  saw-grass.  Gray,  are 
you  going  after  ducks  with  me  or  are  you  going  to 
sit  with  one  hopeful  girl,  one  credulous  white  man,  and 
one  determined  red  man  on  a  shell  heap  in  a  bog  and 
yawn  till  moonrise?  Ducks?  Sure!  Well,  then,  we'd 
better  be  about  it,  my  son." 

The   guides   rose  laughing,   and   went   about  their 

duties,  Carter  and  Bulow  to  clean  up  camp,  Eudo  Stent 

with  Cardross,  senior  and  junior,  carrying  guns  and 

shell  cases  down  to  the  landing  where  the  boats  lay; 

13  183 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


and  Shiela  and  Harnil  to  mount  the  two  fresh  led-horses 
and  follow  the  Seminole  into  the  forest. 

"  Shame  on  your  laziness,  dad !  "  said  Shiela,  as 
Cardross  looked  after  her  in  pretended  pity ;  "  anybody 
can  shoot  ducks  from  a  boat,  but  it  takes  real  hunters 
to  stalk  turkeys!  I  suppose  Eudo  loads  for  you  and 
Gray  pulls  the  triggers !  " 

"  The  turkey  you  get  will  be  a  water-turkey,"  ob 
served  Cardross ;  "  or  a  fragrant  buzzard.  Hamil,  I'm 
sorry  for  you.  I've  tried  that  sort  of  thing  myself  when 
younger.  I'm  still  turkeyless  but  wiser." 

"  You'd  better  bring  Eudo  and  let  us  help  you  to 
retrieve  yourself !  "  called  back  Shiela. 

But  he  refused  scornfully,  and  she  waved  them 
adieu ;  then,  settling  in  her  stirrups,  turned  smilingly  to 
Hamil  who  brought  his  horse  alongside. 

"  Dad  is  probably  right ;  there's  not  much  chance 
for  us  this  way.  But  if  there  is  a  chance  Little  Tiger 
will  see  that  we  get  it.  Anyway,  you  can  try  the  ducks 
in  the  morning.  You  don't  mind,  do  you  ?  " 

He  tried  to  be  prudent  in  his  reply. 


Never  had  he  tasted  such  a  "fteavenly"  banquet." 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    ALLIED    FORCES 

THROUGH  the  glades  the  sun  poured  like  a  red 
searchlight,  and  they  advanced  in  the  wake  of  their 
own  enormous  shadows  lengthening  grotesquely  with 
every  stride.  Tree  trunks  and  underbrush  seemed  afire 
in  the  kindling  glory ;  the  stream  ran  molten. 

Then  of  a  sudden  the  red  radiance  died  out;  the 
forest  turned  ashy ;  the  sun  had  set ;  and  on  the  wings 
of  silence  already  the  swift  southern  dusk  was  settling 
over  lake  and  forest.  A  far  and  pallid  star  came  out 
in  the  west ;  a  cat-owl  howled. 

At  the  edge  of  an  evil-looking  cypress  "  branch  " 
they  dismounted,  drew  gun  from  saddle-boot,  and  loaded 
in  silence  while  the  Indian  tethered  the  horses. 

Then  through  the  thickening  twilight  they  followed 
the  Seminole  in  file,  Hamil  bringing  up  the  rear. 

Little  Tiger  had  left  turban,  plume,  and  leggings 
in  camp ;  the  scalp-lock  bobbed  on  his  head,  bronzed 
feet  and  legs  were  bare;  and,  noiseless  as  a  cypress 
shadow  in  the  moonlight,  he  seemed  part  of  it  all,  har 
monious  as  a  wild  thing  in  its  protective  tints. 

A  narrow  tongue  of  dry  land  scarcely  three  inches 
above  the  swamp  level  was  the  trail  they  followed.  All 
around  tall  cypress  trees,  strangely  buttressed  at  the 
base,  rose  pillar-like  into  obscurity  as  though  support 
ing  the  canopy  of  dusk.  The  goblin  howling  of  the  big 

185 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


cat-owl  pulsated  through  the  silence;  strange  gleams 
and  flashes  stirred  the  surface  of  the  bog.  Once,  close 
ahead,  a  great  white  bird,  winged  like  an  angel,  rose 
in  spectral  silence  through  the  twilight. 

"  Did  you  see !  "  she  breathed,  partly  turning  her 
head. 

"  Good  heavens,  yes !  What  was  it ;  the  archangel 
Michael?  " 

"  Only  a  snowy  heron." 

The  Seminole  had  halted  and  laid  his  hand  flat  on 
the  dead  leaves  under  a  gigantic  water-oak. 

"  A-po-kes-chay,"  he  whispered ;  and  Shiela  trans 
lated  close  to  Hamil's  ear :  "  He  says  that  we  must  all 
sit  down  here — "  A  sudden  crackle  in  the  darkness 
stilled  her  voice. 

"  Im-po-kit-chkaw  ?  "  she  asked.  "Did  you  hear 
that?  No-ka-tee;  what  is  it?  " 

"  Deer  walk,"  nodded  the  Seminole ;  "  sun  gone 
down ;  moon  come.  Bimeby  roost  um  turkey.  Li-kus- 
chay !  No  sound." 

Shiela  settled  quietly  on  the  poncho  among  the  dead 
leaves,  resting  her  back  against  the  huge  tree  trunk. 
Hamil  warily  sank  into  position  beside  her;  the  Indian 
stood  for  a  while,  head  raised,  apparently  gazing  at  the 
tree-tops,  then,  walking  noiselessly  forward  a  dozen 
yards,  squatted. 

Shiela  opened  the  conversation  presently  by  whis 
pering  that  they  must  not  speak. 

And  the  conversation  continued,  fitfully  in  ghostly 
whispers,  lips  scarcely  stirring  close  to  one  another's 
ears. 

As  for  the  swamp,  it  was  less  reticent,  and  began 
to  wake  up  all  around  them  in  the  darkness.  Strange 
creaks  and  quacks  and  croaks  broke  out,  sudden  snap- 

186 


THE  ALLIED   FORCES 


pings  of  twigs,  a  scurry  among  dead  leaves,  a  splash 
in  the  water,  the  far  whir  of  wings.  There  were  no 
insect  noises,  no  resonant  voices  of  bull-frogs;  weird 
squeaks  arose  at  intervals,  the  murmuring  complaint  of 
water-fowl,  guttural  quack  of  duck  and  bittern — a 
vague  stirring  everywhere  of  wild  things  settling  to 
rest  or  awaking.  There  were  things  moving  in  the 
unseen  ooze,  too,  leaving  sudden  sinuous  trails  in  the 
dim  but  growing  lustre  that  whitened  above  the  trees — 
probably  turtles,  perhaps  snakes. 

She  leaned  almost  imperceptibly  toward  him,  and  he 
moved  his  shoulder  close  to  hers. 

"  You  are  not  nervous,  Shiela  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  am." 

"  Why  on  earth  did  you  come?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  The  idea  of  snakes  in  darkness 
always  worries  me.  .  .  .  Once,  waking  in  camp,  reach 
ing  out  through  the  darkness  for  the  water-bottle,  I 
laid  my  hand  on  an  exceedingly  chilly  snake.  It  was 
a  harmless  one,  but  I  nearly  died.  .  .  .  And  here  I  am 
back  again.  Believe  me,  no  burnt  child  ever  dreaded 
the  fire  enough  to  keep  away  from  it.  I'm  a  coward, 
but  not  enough  of  a  one  to  practise  prudence." 

He  laughed  silently.  "  You  brave  little  thing ! 
Every  moment  I  am  learning  more  and  more  how  ador 
able  you  are " 

"  Do  men  adore  folly?  " 

"  Your  kind  of  folly.    Are  you  cold  ?  " 

"  No ;  only  foolish.  There's  some  sort  of  liye 
creature  moving  rather  close  to  me — hush!  Don't  you 
hear  it?" 

But  whatever  it  was  it  went  its  uncanny  way  in 
darkness  and  left  them  listening,  her  small  hand  re 
maining  loosely  in  Ms. 

187 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  What  on  earth  is  the  matter  now,  Shiela  ?  "  he 
whispered,  feeling  her  trembling. 

"  Nothing.  They  say  a  snake  won't  strike  you  if 
you  hold  your  breath.  Its  nonsense,  but  I  was  trying 
it.  ...  What  is  that  ring  I  feel  on  your  hand  ?  " 

"  A  signet ;  my  father's."  He  removed  it  from  his 
little  finger,  tried  it  on  all  of  hers. 

"Is  it  too  large?" 

"  It's  a  little  loose.  .  .  .  You  don't  wish  me  to  wear 
it,  do  you?  .  .  .  Your  father's?  I'd  rather  not.  .  .  . 
Do  you  really  wish  it?  Well,  then — for  a  day — if  you 


Her  ringed  hand  settled  unconsciously  into  his 
again;  she  leaned  back  against  the  tree,  and  he  rested 
his  head  beside  hers. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  wood-ticks,  Mr.  Hamil  ?  I  am, 
horribly.  We're  inviting  all  kinds  of  disaster — but  isn't 
it  delicious !  Look  at  that  whitish  light  above  the  trees. 
When  the  moon  outlines  the  roosting-tree  we'll  know 
whether  our  labour  is  lost.  But  I  wouldn't  have  missed 
it  for  all  the  mallard  on  Ruffle  Lake.  Would  you  ?  Are 
you  contented?  " 

"  Where  you  are  is  contentment,  Shiela." 

"  How  nice  of  you !  But  there  is  always  that  sweet, 
old-fashioned,  boyish  streak  in  you  which  shows  true 
colour  when  I  test  you.  Do  you  know,  at  times,  you 
seem  absurdly  young  to  me." 

"  That's  a  pleasant  thing  to  say." 

Their  shoulders  were  in  contact;  she  was  laughing 
without  a  sound. 

"  At  times,"  she  said,  "  you  are  almost  what  young 
girls  call  cunning !  " 

"  By  heavens ! "  he  began  indignantly,  but  she 
stilled  his  jerk  of  resentment  with  a  quick  pressure. 

188 


THE   ALLIED   FORCES 


"  Lie  still !  For  goodness'  sake  don't  make  the 
leaves  rustle,  silly !  If  there's  a  flock  of  turkeys  in  any 
of  those  cypress  tops,  you  may  be  sure  that  every  sepa 
rate  bird  is  now  looking  straight  in  our  direction.  .  .  . 
I  won't  torment  you  any  more;  I  dare  not.  Little 
Tiger  turned  around;  did  you  notice?  He'd  probably 
like  to  scalp  us  both." 

But  the  Indian  had  resumed  his  motionless  study 
of  the  darkness,  squatted  on  his  haunches  as  immobile 
as  a  dead  stump. 

Hamil  whispered :  "  Such  a  chance  to  make  love  to 
you !  You  dare  not  move.  And  you  deserve  it  for  tor 
menting  me." 

"  If  you  did  such  a  thing " 

"Yes?" 

"  Such  a  thing  as  that " 

"Yes?  " 

"  But  you  wouldn't." 

"  Why,  Shiela,  I'm  doing  it  every  minute  of  my 
life!" 

"  Now?  " 

"  Of  course.  It  goes  on  always.  I  couldn't  prevent 
it  any  more  than  I  could  stop  my  pulses.  It  just  con 
tinues  with  every  heart-beat,  every  breath,  every  word, 
every  silence " 

"Mr.  Hamil!" 

"Yes?" 

"  That  does  sound  like  it — a  little ;  and  you  must 
stop!" 

"  Of  course  I'll  stop  saying  things,  but  that  doesn't 
stop  with  my  silence.  It  simply  goes  on  and  on  in 
creasing  every " 

"  Try  silence,"  she  said. 

Motionless,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  the  pulsing  mo- 
189 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


ments  passed.  Every  muscle  tense,  she  sat  there  for  a 
while,  fearful  that  he  could  hear  her  heart  beating.  Her 
palm,  doubled  in  his,  seemed  to  burn.  Then  little  by 
little  a  subtle  relaxation  stole  over  her;  dreamy-eyed 
she  sank  back  and  looked  into  the  darkness.  A  sense 
of  delicious  well-being  possessed  her,  enmeshing  thought 
in  hazy  lethargy,  quieting  pulse  and  mind. 

Through  it  she  heard  his  voice  faintly;  her  own 
seemed  unreal  when  she  answered. 

He  said :  "  Speaking  of  love ;  there  is  only  one  thing 
possible  for  me,  Shiela — to  go  on  loving  you.  I  can't 
kill  hope,  though  there  seems  to  be  none.  But  there's 
no  use  in  saying  so  to  myself  for  it  is  one  of  those  things 
no  man  believes.  He  may  grow  tired  of  hoping,  and, 
saying  there  is  none,  live  on.  But  neither  he  nor  Fate 
can  destroy  hope  any  more  than  he  can  annihilate  his 
soul.  He  may  change  in  his  heart.  That  he  cannot 
control.  When  love  goes  no  man  can  stav  its  going." 

"  Do  you  think  yours  will  go  ?  " 

"  No.     That  is  a  lover's  answer." 

"  What  is  a  sane  man's  answer?  " 

"  Ask  some  sane  man,  Shiela." 

"  I  would  rather  believe  you." 

"  Does  it  make  you  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  wish  me  to  love  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  would  love  me — a  little — if  you  could?  " 

She  closed  her  eyes. 

"  Would  you  ?  "  he  asked  again. 

"  Yes." 

"  But  you  cannot." 

She  said,  dreamily :  "  I  don't  know.  That  is  a  dread 
ful  answer  to  make.  But  I  don't  know  what  is  in  me. 

190 


THE   ALLIED    FORCES 


I  don't  know  what  I  am  capable  of  doing.  I  wish  I 
knew;  I  wish  I  could  tell  you." 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  think,  Shiela?  " 

"What?" 

"  It's  curious — but  since  I  have  known  you — and 
about  your  birth — the  idea  took  shape  and  persisted — 
that— that " 

"  What?  "  she  asked. 

"  That,  partly  perhaps  because  of  your  physical 
beauty,  and  because  of  your  mind  and  its  intelligence 
and  generosity,  you  embodied  something  of  that  type 
which  this  nation  is  developing." 

"  That  is  curious,"  she  said  softly. 

"  Yes ;  but  you  give  me  that  impression,  as  though 
in  you  were  the  lovely  justification  of  these  generations 
of  welding  together  alien  and  native  to  make  a  national 
type,  spiritual,  intelligent,  wholesome,  beautiful.  .  .  . 
And  I've  fallen  into  the  habit  of  thinking  of  you  in  that 
way — as  thoroughly  human,  thoroughly  feminine,  heir 
to  the  best  that  is  human,  and  to  its  temptations  too; 
yet,  somehow,  instinctively  finding  the  right  way  in  life, 
the  true  way  through  doubt  and  stress.  .  .  .  Like  the 
Land  itself — with  perhaps  the  blood  of  many  nations  in 
your  veins.  ...  I  don't  know  exactly  what  I'm  trying 
to  sav " 

"V  know." 

"  Yes,"  he  whispered,  "  you  do  know  that  all  I  have 
said  is  only  a  longer  way  of  saying  that  I  love  you." 

"  Through  stress  and  doubt,"  she  murmured,  "  you 
think  I  will  find  the  way? — with  perhaps  the  blood  of 
many  nations  in  my  veins,  with  all  their  transmitted 
emotions,  desires,  passions  for  my  inheritance?  ...  It 
is  my  only  heritage.  They  did  not  even  leave  me  a 
name;  only  a  capacity  for  every  human  error,  with  no 

191 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


knowledge  of  what  particular  inherited  failing  I  am  to 
contend  with  when  temptation  comes.  Do  you  wonder 
I  am  sometimes  lonely  and  afraid  ?  " 

"  You  darling !  "  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"  Hush ;  that  is  forbidden.  You  know  perfectly  well 
it  is.  Are  you  laughing?  That  is  very  horrid  of  you 
when  I'm  trying  so  hard  not  to  listen  when  you  use 
forbidden  words  to  me.  But  I  heard  you  once  when  I 
should  not  have  heard  you.  Does  that  seem  centuries 
ago?  Alas  for  us  both,  Ulysses,  when  I  heard  your 
voice  calling  me  under  the  Southern  stars !  Would  you 
ever  have  spoken  if  you  knew  what  you  know  now  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  told  you  the  truth  sooner." 

"Told  me  what  truth?" 

"  That  I  love  you,  Calypso." 

"  You  always  answer  like  a  boy !  Ah,  well ! — if  you 
knew  how  easily  a  girl  believes  such  answers !  " 

He  bent  his  head,  raising  her  bare  fingers  to  his 
lips.  A  tiny  shock  passed  through  them  both;  she 
released  her  hand  and  buried  it  in  the  folds  of  her 
kilt. 

There  was  a  pale  flare  of  moonlight  behind  the 
forest;  trunks  and  branches  were  becoming  more  dis 
tinct.  A  few  moments  later  the  Indian,  bending  low, 
came  creeping  back  without  a  sound,  and  straightened 
up  in  the  fathomless  shadow  of  the  oak,  motioning  Shiela 
and  Hamil  to  rise. 

"  Choo-lee,"  he  motioned  with  his  lips ;  "  Ko-la-pa- 
kin !  " 

Lips  close  to  Hamil's  ear  she  whispered :  "  He  says 
that  there  are  seven  in  that  pine.  Can  you  see  them?  " 

He  strained  his  eyes  in  vain ;  she  had  already  found 
them  and  now  stood  close  to  his  shoulder,  whispering  the 
direction. 

192 


THE   ALLIED   FORCES 


"  I  can't  make  them  out,"  he  said.  "  Don't  wait 
for  me,  but  take  your  chance  at  once." 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  do  that?  " 

"  You  must  \     You  have  never  shot  a  turkey " 

"  Hush,  silly.  What  pleasure  would  there  be  in  it 
without  you?  Try  to  see  them;  look  carefully.  All 
those  dark  furry  blotches  against  the  sky  are  pine  leaves, 
but  the  round  shadowy  lumps  are  turkeys ;  one  is  quite 
clearly  silhouetted,  now;  even  to  his  tail " 

"  I  believe  I  do  see !  "  murmured  Hamil.  "  By  Jove, 
yes !  Shiela,  you're  an  angel  to  be  so  patient." 

"  I'll  take  the  top  bird,"  she  whispered.  "  Are  you 
ready?  We  must  be  quick." 

"  Ready,"  he  motioned. 

Then  in  the  dim  light  one  of  the  shadowy  bunches 
rose  abruptly,  standing  motionless  on  the  branch,  cran 
ing  a  long  neck  into  the  moonlight. 

"  Fire !  "  she  whispered ;  and  four  red  flashes  in  pairs 
split  the  gloom  wide  open  for  a  second.  Then  roaring 
darkness  closed  about  them. 

Instantly  the  forest  resounded  with  the  thunderous 
racket  of  heavy  wings  as  the  flock  burst  into  flight,  clat 
tering  away  through  leafy  obscurity;  but  under  the 
uproar  of  shot  and  clapping  wings  sounded  the  thud 
and  splash  of  something  heavy  crashing  earthward ;  and 
the  Indian,  springing  from  root  to  tussock,  vanished 
into  the  shadows. 

"  Two  down !  "  said  the  girl,  unsteadily.  "  Oh,  I 
am  so  thankful  that  you  got  yours !  " 

They  exchanged  excited  handclasps  of  mutual  con 
gratulation.  Then  he  said: 

"  Shiela,  you  dear  generous  girl,  I  don't  believe  I 
Kit  anything,  but  I'll  bet  that  you  got  a  turkey  with 
'each  barrel !  " 

193 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Foolish  boy !  Of  course  you  grassed  your  bird ! 
It  wasn't  a  wing  shot,  but  we  took  what  fate  sent  us. 
Nobody  can  choose  conditions  on  the  firing  line.  We 
did  our  best,  I  think." 

"  Wise  little  Shiela !  Her  philosophy  is  as  fascinat 
ing  as  it  is  sound !  "  He  looked  at  her  half  smiling, 
partly  serious.  "  You  and  I  are  on  life's  firing  line, 
you  know." 

"Are  we?" 

"  And  under  the  lively  fusillade  of  circumstances." 

"Are  we?" 

He  said :  "  It  will  show  us  up  as  we  are.  ...  I  am 
afraid  for  us  both." 

"  If  you  are — don't  tell  me." 

"  It  is  best  to  know  the  truth.  We've  got  to  stay 
on  the  firing  line  anyway.  We  might  as  well  know  that 
we  are  not  very  sure  of  ourselves.  If  the  fear  of  God 
doesn't  help  us  it  will  end  us.  But — "  He  walked  up 
to  her  and  took  both  her  hands  frankly.  "  We'll  try 
to  be  good  soldiers;  won't  we?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  good  comrades — even  if  we  can't  be  more  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  help  each  other  under  fire  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  make  me  very  happy,"  he  said  simply ;  and 
turned  to  the  Seminole  who  was  emerging  from  obscu 
rity,  shoulders  buried  under  a  mass  of  bronzed  feathers 
from  which  dangled  two  grotesque  heads. 

One  was  a  gobbler — a  magnificent  patriarch;  and 
Shiela  with  a  little  cry  of  delight  turned  to  Hamil: 
"  That's  yours  !  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart !  " 

"  No,    no ! "    he    protested,    "  the    gobbler    fell    to 

you " 

194 


THE   DALLIED   FORCES 


"  It  is  yours !  "  she  repeated  firmly ;  "  mine  is  this 
handsome,  plump  hen " 

"  I  won't  claim  that  magnificent  gobbler !  Little 
Tiger,  didn't  Miss  Cardross  shoot  this  bird?" 

"  Gobbler  top  bird,"  nodded  the  Seminole  proudly. 

"  You  fired  at  the  top  bird,  Shiela !  That  settles  it ! 
I'm  perfectly  delighted  over  this.  Little  Tiger,  you 
stalked  them  beautifully;  but  how  on  earth  you  ever 
managed  to  roost  them  in  the  dark  I  can't  make  out !  * 

"  See  um  same  like  tiger,"  nodded  the  pleased  Sem 
inole.  And,  to  Shiela :  "  Pen-na-waw-suc-chai !  I-hoo- 
es-chai."  And  he  lighted  his  lantern. 

"  He  says  that  the  turkeys  are  all  gone  and  that  we 
had  better  go  too,  Mr.  Hamil.  What  a  perfect  beauty 
that  gobbler  is!  I'd  much  rather  have  him  mounted 
than  eat  him.  Perhaps  we  can  do  both.  Eudo  skins 
very  skilfully  and  there's  plenty  of  salt  in  camp.  Look 
at  that  mist !  " 

And  so,  chattering  away  in  highest  spirits  they  fel] 
into  file  behind  the  Seminole  and  his  lantern,  who,  in  the 
thickening  fog,  looked  like  some  slim  luminous  forest- 
phantom  with  great  misty  wings  atrail  from  either 
shoulder. 

Treading  the  narrow  way  in  each  other's  footsteps 
they  heard,  far  in  the  darkness,  the  gruesome  tumult  of 
owls.  Once  the  Indian's  lantern  flashed  on  a  snake 
which  rose  quickly  from  compact  coils,  hissing  and  dis 
tending  its  neck ;  but  for  all  its  formidable  appearance 
and  loud,  defiant  hissing  the  Indian  picked  up  a 
palmetto  fan  and  contemptuously  tossed  the  reptile  aside 
into  the  bog. 

"  It's  only  a  noisy  puff-adder,"  said  Shiela,  who 
liad  retreated  very  close  against  Hamil,  "  but,  oh,  I 
don't  love  them  even  when  they  are  harmless."  And 

195 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


rather  thoughtfully  she  disengaged  herself  from  the 
sheltering  arm  of  that  all  too  sympathetic  young  man, 
and  went  forward,  shivering  a  little  as  the  hiss  of  the 
enraged  adder  broke  out  from  the  uncongenial  mud 
where  he  had  unwillingly  landed. 

And  so  they  came  to  their  horses  through  a  white 
mist  which  had  thickened  so  rapidly  that  the  Indian's 
lantern  was  now  only  an  iridescent  star  ringed  with 
rainbows.  And  when  they  had  been  riding  for  twenty 
minutes  Little  Tiger  halted  them  with  lifted  lantern  and 
said  quietly : 

"  Chi-ho-ches-chee !  " 

"  Wh-at !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  incredulous. 

"  What  did  he  say?  "  asked  Hamil. 

"  He  says  that  he  is  lost !  " 

Hamil  stared  around  in  dismay ;  a  dense  white  wall 
shut  out  everything;  the  Indian's  lantern  at  ten  paces 
was  invisible ;  he  could  scarcely  see  Shiela  unless  she  rode 
close  enough  to  touch  his  elbow. 

"  Catch  um  camp,"  observed  Little  Tiger  calmly. 
"  Loose  bridle !  Bimeby  catch  um  camp.  One  horse 
lead.  No  be  scared." 

So  Hamil  dismounted  and  handed  his  bridle  to  the 
Indian ;  then  Shiela  cast  her  own  bridle  loose  across  the 
pommel,  and  touching  her  horse  with  both  heels,  rode 
forward,  hands  in  her  jacket  pockets.  And  Hamil  walked 
beside  her,  one  arm  on  the  cantle. 

Into  blank  obscurity  the  horse  moved,  bearing  to 
the  left — a  direction  which  seemed  entirely  wrong. 

"  Catch  um  camp,"  came  the  Indian's  amused  voice 
through  the  mist  from  somewhere  close  behind. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  that  this  is  the  right  direc 
tion,"  ventured  Shiela  doubtfully.  "Isn't  it  absurd? 
Where  are  you,  Mr.  Hamil?  Come  closer  and  keep  in 

196 


THE   ALLIED   FORCES 


touch  with  my  stirrup.    I  found  you  in  a  fog  and  I  really 
don't  want  to  lose  you  in  one." 

She  dropped  one  arm  so  that  her  hand  rested  lightly 
on  his  shoulder. 

"  This  is  not  the  first  mist  we've  been  through  to 
gether,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that,  too.  They  say  the  gods 
arrive  and  go  in  a  mist.  Don't  go." 

They  moved  on  in  silence,  the  horse  stepping  con 
fidently  into  the  crowding  fog.  Once  Hamil  stumbled 
over  a  root  and  Shiela's  hand  slipped  around  his  neck, 
tightening  a  moment.  He  straightened  up;  but  her 
hand  slid  back  to  his  coat  sleeve,  resting  so  lightly  that 
he  could  scarce  feel  the  touch. 

Then  the  horse  stumbled,  this  time  over  the  tongue 
of  the  camp  wagon.  Little  Tiger  was  right;  the  horse 
had  brought  them  back. 

Hamil  turned ;  Shiela  swung  one  leg  across  the  pom 
mel  and  slipped  from  her  saddle  into  his  arms. 

"  Have  you  been  happy,  Shiela  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  have.  .  .  .  But — you  must  release 
me." 

"Perfectly  happy?" 

"  Ah,  yes.  Don't  you  know  I  have?  "...  And  in 
a  low  voice :  "  Release  me  now — for  both  our  sakes." 

She  did  not  struggle  nor  did  he  retain  her  by  per 
ceptible  force. 

"  Won't  you  release  me  ?  " 

"Must  I?" 

"  I  thought  you  promised  to  help  me — on  the  firing 
line  ?  "  She  forced  a  little  laugh,  resting  both  her  hands 
on  his  wrists  against  her  waist.  "  You  said,"  she  added 
with  an  effort  at  lightness,  "  that  we  are  under  heavy 
fire  now." 

197 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  The  fire  of  circumstances  ?  " 

"  The  cross-fire — of  temptation.  .  .  .  Help  me." 

His  arms  fell;  neither  moved.  Then  a  pale  spark 
grew  in  the  mist,  brighter,  redder,  and,  side  by  side,  they 
walked  toward  it. 

"  What  luck ! "  cried  Gray,  lifting  a  blazing  pal 
metto  fan  above  his  head.  "  We  got  ten  mallard  and 
a  sprig!  Where's  your  game?  We  heard  you  shoot 
four  times !  " 

Shiela  laughed  as  the  Seminole  loomed  up  in  the  in- 
eandescent  haze  of  the  camp  fire,  buried  in  plumage. 

"Dad!  Dad!  Where  are  you?  Mr.  Hamil  has 
shot  a  magnificent  wild  turkey ! " 

"  Well,  upon  my  word!  "  exclaimed  Cardross,  emerg 
ing  from  his  section ;  "  the  luck  of  the  dub  is  proverbial  i 
Hamil,  what  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by  it?  That's  what 
I  want  to  know!  O  Lord!  Look  at  that  gobbler! 
Shiela,  did  you  let  this  young  man  wipe  both  your 
eyes?" 

"  Mine  ?  Oh,  I  almost  forgot.  You  see  I  shot  one  of 
them." 

"Which?" 

"  It  happened  to  be  the  gobbler,"  she  said.  "  It  was 
a  mere  chance  in  the  dark.  .  .  .  And — if  my  section  is 
ready,  dad — I'm  a  little  tired,  I  think.  Good  night, 
everybody ;  good  night,  Mr.  Hamil — and  thank  y  ou  for 
taking  care  of  me." 

Cardross,  enveloped  in  blankets,  glanced  at  HamiL 

**  Did  you  ever  know  anybody  so  quick  to  give  credit 
to  others  ?  It's  worth  something  to  hear  anybod}r  speak 
in  that  fashion." 

"  That  is  why  I  did  not  interrupt,"  said  Hamil. 

Cardross  looked  down  at  the  dying  coals,  then  di- 
198 


THE   ALLIED   FORCES 


rectly  at  the  silent  young  fellow — a  long,  keen  glance; 
then  his  gaze  fell  again  on  the  Seminole  fire. 

"  Good  night,  sir,"  said  Hamil  at  last. 

"  Good  night,  my  boy,"  replied  the  older  man 
quietly. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE    SILENT    PARTNERS 

LATE  one  evening  toward  the  end  of  the  week  a 
somewhat  battered  camping  party,  laden  with  plump, 
fiuffy  bunches  of  quail,  and  plumper  strings  of  duck, 
wind-scorched,  sun-burnt,  brier-torn  and  trail-worn, 
re-entered  the  patio  of  the  Cardross  villa,  and  made 
straight  for  shower-bath,  witch-hazel,  fresh  pyjamas, 
and  bed. 

In  vain  Jessie  Carrick,  Cecile,  and  their  mother 
camped  around  Shiela's  bed  after  the  tray  was  removed, 
and  Shiela's  flushed  face,  innocent  as  usual  of  sunburn, 
lay  among  the  pillows,  framed  by  the  brown-gold  lustre 
of  her  hair. 

"  We  had  such  a  good  time,  mother ;  Mr.  Hamil 
shot  a  turkey,"  she  said  sleepily.  "  Mr.  Hamil — Mr. 
H-a-m-i-1  " — A  series  of  little  pink  yawns,  a  smile,  a  faint 
sigh  terminated  consciousness  as  she  relaxed  into  slumber 
as  placid  as  her  first  cradle  sleep.  So  motionless  she  lay, 
bare  arms  wound  around  the  pillow,  that  they  could 
scarcely  detelt  her  breathing  save  when  the  bow  of  pale- 
blue  ribbon  stirred  on  her  bosom. 

"The  darling!"  whispered  Mrs.  Carrick;  "look  at 
that  brier  mark  across  her  wrist! — our  poor  little  worn' 
out  colleen !  " 

"  She  was  not  too  far  gone  to  mention  Garret 
Hamil,"  observed  Cecile. 

200 


THE  SILENT  PARTNERS 

Mrs.  Cardross  looked  silently  at  Cecile,  then  at  the 
girl  on  the  bed  who  had  called  her  mother.  After  a 
moment  she  bent  with  difficulty  and  kissed  the  brier- 
torn  wrist,  wondering  perhaps  whether  by  chance  a 
deeper  wound  lay  hidden  beneath  the  lace-veiled,  childish 
breast. 

"  Little  daughter — little  daughter !  "  she  murmured 
close  to  the  small  unheeding  ear.  Cecile  waited,  a  smile 
half  tender,  half  amused  curving  her  parted  lips;  then 
she  glanced  curiously  at  Mrs.  Car  rick.  But  that  young 
matron,  ignoring  the  enfant  terrible,  calmly  tucked  her 
arm  under  her  mother's ;  Cecile,  immersed  in  speculative 
thought,  followed  them  from  the  room;  a  maid  extin 
guished  the  lights. 

In  an  hour  the  Villa  Cardross  was  silent  and  dark, 
save  that,  in  the  moonlight  which  struck  through  the 
panes  of  Malcourt's  room,  an  unquiet  shadow  moved 
from  window  to  window,  looking  out  into  the  mystery 
of  night. 

The  late  morning  sun  flung  a  golden  net  across  Mai- 
court's  bed;  he  lay  asleep,  dark  hair  in  handsome  dis 
order,  dark  eyes  sealed — too  young  to  wear  that  bruised, 
loose  mask  so  soon  with  the  swollen  shadows  under  lid 
and  lip.  Yet,  in  his  unconscious  features  there  was  now 
a  certain  simplicity  almost  engaging,  which  awake,  he 
seemed  to  lack ;  as  though  latent  somewhere  within  him 
were  qualities  which  chance  might  germinate  into  nobler 
growth.  But  chance,  alone,  is  a  poor  gardener. 

Hamil  passing  the  corridor  as  the  valet,  carrying  a 
tray,  opened  Malcourt's  door,  glanced  in  at  him;  and 
Malcourt  awoke  at  the  same  moment,  and  sat  bolt  up 
right. 

"  Hello,  Hamil !  "  he  nodded  sleepily,  "  come  in,  old 
201 


THE   FIIIING   LINE 


fellow!"  And,  to  the  valet:  "No  breakfast  for  me, 
thank  you — except  grape-fruit ! — unless  you've  brought 
me  a  cuckootail?  Yes?  No?  Stung!  Never  mind; 
just  hand  me  a  cigarette  and  take  away  the  tray.  It's 
a  case  of  being  a  very  naughty  boy,  Hamil.  How  are 
you  anyway,  and  what  did  you  shoot  ?  " 

Hamil  greeted  him  briefly,  but  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  enter  or  converse. 

Malcourt  yawned,  glanced  at  the  grape-fruit,  then 
affably  at  Hamil. 

"  I  say,"  he  began,  "  hope  you'll  overlook  my  rotten 
behaviour  last  time  we  met.  I'd  been  dining  at  random, 
and  I'm  usually  a  brute  when  I  do  that." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,"  said  Hamil,  looking  at  the  row 
of  tiny  Chinese  idols  on  the  mantel. 

"  No  rancour?  " 

"  No.    Only — why  do  you  do  it,  Malcourt?  " 

"  Why  do  I  do  which?     The  wheel  or  the  lady?  " 

"  Oh,  the  whole  bally  business  ?  It  isn't  as  if  you  were 
lonely  and  put  to  it.  There  are  plenty  of  attractive  girls 
about,  and  anybody  will  take  you  on  at  Bridge.  Of 
course  it's  none  of  my  affair — but  we  came  unpleasantly 
close  to  a  quarrel — which  is  my  only  excuse." 

Malcourt  looked  at  him  thoughtfully.  "  Hamil,  do 
you  know,  I've  alwaj's  liked  you  a  damn  sight  better,  than 
you've  liked  me." 

Hamil  said,  laughing  outright :  "  I  never  saw  very 
much  of  you  to  like  or  dislike." 

Malcourt  smiled,  stretched  his  limbs  lazily,  and 
lighted  a  cigarette. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  said,  "  you  think  I'm 
worse  than  I  am,  but  I  know  you  are  worse  than  you 
think,  because  I  couldn't  even  secretly  feel  friendly  to 
ward  a  prig.  You've  had  a  less  battered  career  than  I ; 

202 


THE   SILENT  PARTNERS 

you  are,  in  consequence,  less  selfish,  less  ruthless,  less 
cynical  concerning  traditions  and  illusions.  You've 
something  left  to  stick  to ;  I  haven't.  You  are  a  little 
less  intelligent  than  I,  and  therefore  possess  more  natu 
ral  courage  and  credulity.  Outside  of  these  things  we 
are  more  or  less  alike,  Hamil.  Hope  you  don't  mind 
my  essay  on  man." 

"  No,"  said  Hamil,  vastly  amused. 

"  The  trouble  with  me,"  continued  Malcourt,  **  is 
that  I  possess  a  streak  of  scientific  curiosity  that  you 
lack;  which  is  my  eternal  undoing  and  keeps  me  poor 
and  ignobly  busy.  I  ought  to  have  leisure;  the  world 
should  see  to  it  that  I  have  sufficient  leisure  and  means 
to  pursue  my  studies  in  the  interest  of  social  economy. 
Take  one  of  my  favourite  experiments,  for  example.  I 
see  a  little  ball  rattling  around  in  a  wheel.  Where 
will  that  ball  stop?  You,  being  less  intellectual  than 
I,  don't  care  where  it  stops.  7  do.  Instantly  my  scien 
tific  curiosity  is  aroused ;  I  reason  logically ;  I  evolve  an 
opinion;  I  back  that  opinion;  and  I  remain  busy  and 
poor.  I  see  a  pretty  woman.  Is  she  responsive  or  un 
responsive  to  intelligently  expressed  sentiment?  I  don't 
know.  You  don't  care.  /  do.  My  curiosity  is  piqued. 
She  becomes  to  me  an  abstract  question  which  scientific 
experiment  alone  can  elucidate " 

Hamil,  leaning  on  the  footboard  of  the  bed,  laughed 
and  straightened  up. 

"  All  right,  Malcourt,  if  you  think  it  worth 
while " 

"  What  pursuit,  if  you  please,  is  worthier  than  logical 
and  scientific  investigations  ?  " 

"  Make  a  lot  of  honest  mone}^  and  marry  some  nice 
girl  and  have  horses  and  dogs  and  a  bully  home  and  kids. 
Look  here,  as  Wayward  says,  you're  not  the  devilish  sort 

203 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


you  pretend  to  be.  You're  too  young  for  one  thing. 
I  never  knew  you  to  do  a  deliberately  ungenerous 
act " 

"  Like  most  rascals  I'm  liable  to  sentimental  gener 
osity  in  streaks?  Thanks.  But,  somehow,  I'm  so 
damned  intelligent  that  I  can  never  give  myself  any 
credit  for  relapsing  into  traditional  virtues.  Impulse  is 
often  my  executive  officer;  and  if  I  were  only  stupid 
I'd  take  great  comfort  out  of  it." 

Hamil  walked  toward  the  door,  stopping  on  the 
threshold  to  say :  "  Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  Mai- 
court;  I've  often  disliked  you  at  times;  but  I  don't  now. 
And  I  don't  exactly  know  why. " 

"  I  do." 

"Why?" 

"  Oh,  because  you've  forgiven  me.  Also — you  think 
I've  a  better  side." 

"Haven't  you?" 

"  My  son,"  said  Malcourt,  "  if  somebody'll  prove  it 
to  me  I  might  sleep  better.  Just  at  present  I'm  ready 
for  anything  truly  criminal.  There  was  a  killing  at 
the  Club  all  right.  I  assumed  the  role  of  the  defunct. 
Now  I  haven't  any  money;  I've  overdrawn  my  balance 
and  my  salary ;  Portlaw  is  bilious,  peevish,  unapproach 
able.  If  I  asked  you  for  a  loan  I'd  only  fall  a  victim 
again  to  my  insatiable  scientific  curiosity.  So  I'll  just 
lie  here  and  browse  on  cigarettes  and  grape-fruit  until 
something  happens " 


"  If  you  need  any  money " 

"  I  told  you  that  we  are  more  or  less  alike,"  nodded 
Malcourt.  "  Your  offer  is  partly  traditional,  partly 
impulsive,  altogether  ill-considered,  and  does  your  in 
telligence  no  credit !  " 

Hamil  laughed. 

204 


THE   SILENT   PARTNERS 

"  All  the  same  it's  an  offer,"  he  said,  "  and  it  stands* 
I'm  glad  I  know  you  better,  Malcourt.  I'll  be  sorry  in^ 
stead  of  complacently  disgusted  if  you  never  pan  out; 
but  I'll  bet  you  do,  some  time." 

Malcourt  looked  up. 

"  I'm  ass  enough  to  be  much  obliged,"  he  said. 
"  And  now,  before  you  go,  what  the  devil  did  you  shoot 
in  the  woods?  " 

"  Miss  Cardross  got  a  gobbler — about  the  biggest 
bird  I  ever  saw.  Eudo  Stent  skinned  it  and  Mr.  Car- 
dross  is  going  to  have  it  set  up  in  New  York.  It's  a 
wonderful " 

"  Didn't  you  shoot  anything  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  assassinated  a  few  harmless  birds,"  said 
Hamil  absently;  and  walked  out  into  the  corridor. 
"  I've  got  to  go  over  a  lot  of  accumulated  letters  and 
things,"  he  called  back.  "  See  you  later,  Malcourt." 

There  was  a  mass  of  mail,  bills,  plans,  and  office  re 
ports  for  him  lying  on  the  hall  table.  He  gathered  these 
up  and  hastened  down  the  stairway. 

On  the  terrace  below  he  found  Mrs.  Cardross,  and 
stopped  to  tell  her  what  a  splendid  trip  they  had,  and 
how  beautifully  Shiela  had  shot. 

"  You  did  rather  well  yourself,"  drawled  Mrs.  Car- 
dross,  with  a  bland  smile.  "  Shiela  says  so." 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  my  shooting  doesn't  compare  with 
Shiela's.  I  never  knew  such  a  girl ;  I  never  believed  they 
existed " 

"  They  are  rare,"  nodded  the  matron.  "  I  am  glad 
everybody  finds  my  little  daughter  so  admirable  in  the 
field." 

"  Beyond  comparison  in  the  field  and  everywhere," 
said  Hamil,  with  a  cordiality  so  laboriously  frank  that 
Mrs.  Cardross  raised  her  eyes — an  instant  only — then 

205 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


continued  sorting  the  skeins  of  silk  in  her  voluminous 
lap. 

Shiela  appeared  in  sight  among  the  roses  across  the 
lawn;  and,  as  Mr.  Cardross  came  out  on  the  terrace 
to  light  his  after-breakfast  cigar,  Hamil  disappeared 
in  the  direction  of  the  garden  where  Shiela  now  stood 
under  the  bougainvillia,  leisurely  biting  into  a  sapodilla. 

Mrs.  Cardross  nodded  to  her  white-linen-clad  hus 
band,  who  looked  very  handsome  with  the  silvered  hair  at 
his  temples  accentuating  the  clear,  deep  tan  of  his  face. 

"  You  are  burnt,  Neville.  Did  you  and  the  chil 
dren  have  a  good  time  ?  " 

"  A  good  time !  Well,  just  about  the  best  in  my  life 
— except  when  I'm  with  you.  Too  bad  you  couldn't 
have  been  there.  Shiela  shoots  like  a  demon.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  her  among  the  quail,  and  later,  in 
the  saw-grass,  pulling  down  mallard  and  duskies  from 
the  sky-high  overhead  range!  I  tell  you,  Amy,  she's 
the  cleverest,  sweetest,  cleanest  sportsman  I  ever  saw 
afield.  Gray,  of  course,  stopped  his  birds  very  well. 
He  has  a  lot  of  butterflies  to  show  you,  and — '  longi- 
corns,'  I  believe  he  calls  those  beetles  with  enormous 
feelers.  Little  Tiger  is  a  treasure ;  Eudo  and  the  others 
did  well " 

"  And  Mr.  Hamil?  "  drawled  his  wife. 

"  I  like  him.  It's  a  verdict,  dear.  You  were  quite 
right ;  he  is  a  nice  boy — rather  a  lovable  boy.  I've  dis 
covered  no  cloven  hoof  about  him.  He  doesn't  shoot 
particularly  well,  but  his  field  manners  are  faultless." 

His  wife,  always  elaborately  upholstered,  sat  in  her 
wide  reclining  chair,  plump,  jewelled  fingers  busy  with 
a  silk  necktie  for  Hamil,  her  pretty  blue  eyes  raised  at 
intervals  to  scan  her  husband's  animated  features. 

"  Does  Gray  like  him  as  much  jus  ever,  Neville?  " 
206 


THE   SILENT  PARTNERS 

"  O  Lord,  Gray  adores  him,  and  I  like  him,  and  you 
knit  neckties  for  him,  and  Jessie  doses  him,  and  Cecile 
quotes  him " 

"AndShiela?" 

"  Oh,  Shiela  seems  to  like  him,"  said  Cardross  geni 
ally.  His  wife  raised  her  eyes,  then  calmly  scrutinized 
her  knitting. 

"  And  Mr.  Hamil?  " 

"  What  about  him,  dear?  " 

"  Does  he  seem  to  like  Shiela?  " 

Her  husband  glanced  musingly  out  over  the  lawn 
where,  in  their  white  flannels,  Shiela  and  Hamil  were 
now  seated  together  under  a  brilliant  Japanese  lawn 
umbrella,  examining  the  pile  of  plans,  reports  and  blue 
prints  which  had  accumulated  in  Hamil' s  office  since  his 
absence. 

"  He — seems  to  like  her,"  nodded  Cardross,  "  I'm 
sure  he  does.  Why  not?  " 

"  They  were  together  a  good  deal,  you  said  last 
night." 

"  Yes ;  but  either  Gray  or  I  or  one  of  the  guides " 

"  Of  course.     Then  you  don't  think " 

Cardross  waited  and  finally  looked  up.  "  What, 
dear?  " 

"  That  there  is  anything  more  than  a  sensible  friend 
ship " 

"  Between  Shiela  and  Garret  Hamil?  " 

"  Yes ;  we  were  not  discussing  the  Emperor  of 
China.' 

Cardross  laughed  and  glanced  sideways  at  the  lawn 
umbrella. 

"  I— don't— know." 

His  wife  raised  her  brows  but  not  her  head. 

"Why,  Neville?" 

207 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"Why  what?" 

"  Your  apparent  doubt  as  to  the  significance  of  their 
friendship." 

"  Dear — I  don't  know  much  about  those  things." 

His  wife  waited. 

"  Hamil  is  so  nice  to  everybody  ;  and  I've  not  noticed 
how  he  is  with  other  young  girls,"  continued  her  hus 
band  restlessly.  "  He  does  seem  to  tag  after  Shiela. 
.  .  .  Once  or  twice  I  thought — or  it  seemed  to  me — or 
rather " 

His  wife  waited. 

"  Well,  he  seemed  rather  impressed  by  her  field 
qualities,"  concluded  Cardross  weakly. 

His  wife  waited. 

Her  husband  lit  a  cigar  very  carefully :  "  That's  all 
I  noticed,  dear." 

Mrs.  Cardross  laid  the  narrow  bit  of  woven  blue  silk 
on  her  knee  and  smoothed  it  reflectively. 

"Neville!" 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  I  wonder  whether  Mr.  Hamil  has  heard." 

Her  husband  did  not  misunderstand.  "  I  think  it 
likely.  That  old  harridan " 

"  Please,  Neville !  " 

"  Well,  then,  Mrs.  Van  Dieman  has  talked  ever  since 
you  and  Shiela  sat  on  the  aspirations  of  her  impossible 
son." 

"  You  think  Mr.  Hamil  knows?  " 

"  Why  not?  Everybody  does,  thanks  to  that  ven 
omous  old  lady  and  her  limit  of  an  offspring." 

"  And  in  spite  of  that  you  think  Mr.  Hamil  might 
be  seriously  impressed?" 

"  Why  not?  "  repeated  Cardross.  "  She's  the  sweet 
est,  cleanest-cut  sportsman 

208 


THE   SILENT   PARTNERS 

"  Dear,  a  field-trial  is  not  what  we  are  discussing." 
"  No,  of  course.  But  those  things  count  with  a  man. 
And  besides,  admitting  that  the  story  is  all  over  Palm 
Beach  and  New  York  by  this  time,  is  there  a  more 
popular  girl  here  than  our  little  Shiela?  Look  at  the 
men — troops  of  'em!  Alex  Anan  knew  when  he  tried 
his  luck.  You  had  to  tell  Mr.  Cuyp,  but  Shiela  was 
obliged  to  turn  him  down  after  all.  It  certainly  has 
not  intimidated  anybody.  Do  you  remember  two  years 
ago  how  persistent  Louis  Malcourt  was  until  you 
squelched  him?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  he  didn't  know  the  truth  then.  He  acts 
sometimes  as  though  he  knew  it  now.  I  don't  think 
he  would  ask  Shiela  again.  And,  Neville,  if  Mr.  Hamil 
does  not  know,  and  if  you  think  there  is  the  slightest 
chance  of  Shiela  becoming  interested  in  him,  he  ought 
to  be  told — indirectly.  Unhappiness  for  both  might  lie 
in  his  ignorance." 

"  Shiela  would  tell  him  before  he— 
"  Of  course.  But — it  might  then  be  too  late  for 
her — if  he  prove  less  of  a  man  than  we  think  him !  He 
comes  from  a  family  whose  connections  have  always 
thought  a  great  deal  of  themselves — in  the  narrower 
sense;  a  family  not  immune  from  prejudice.  His  aunt, 
Miss  Palliser,  is  very  amiable;  but,  dear,  we  must  not 
make  the  mistake  that  she  could  consider  Shiela  good 
enough  for'  her  nephew.  One  need  not  be  a  snob  to 
hesitate  under  the  pitiful  circumstances." 

"  If  I  know  Hamil,  he'll  ask  little  advice  from  his 

relatives " 

"  But  he  will  receive  plenty,  Neville." 
Cardross  shrugged.     "  Then  it's  up  to  him,  Amy." 
"  Exactly.    But  do  you  wish  to  have  our  little  Shiela 
in  a  position  where  her  declared  lover  hesitates?     And 

209 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


BO  I  say,  Neville,  that  it  is  better  for  her  that  Mr. 
Hamil  should  know  the  truth  in  ample  time  to  recon 
sider  any  sentiment  before  he  utters  it.  It  is  only  fair 
to  him  and  to  Shiela.  That  is  all." 

"  Why  do  you  say  all  this  now,  dearest?  Have  you 
thought " 

"  Yes,  a  little.  The  child  is  fond  of  him.  I  did  think 
she  once  cared  for  Louis — as  a  young  girl  cares  for  a 
boy.  But  we  couldn't  permit  her  to  take  any  chances, 
poor  fellow! — his  family  record  is  sadly  against  him. 
No;  we  did  right,  Neville.  And  now,  at  the  first  sign, 
we  must  do  right  again  between  Shiela  and  this  very 
lovable  boy  who  is  making  your  park  for  you." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Cardross  absently,  "  but  the  man 
who  hesitates  because  of  what  he  learns  about  Shiela 
isn't  worth  enlightening."  He  looked  out  across  the 
lawn.  "  I  hope  it  happens,"  he  said.  "  And,  by  the 
way,  dear,  I've  got  to  go  to  town." 
""O  Neville!" 

"  Don't  worry ;  I'm  not  going  to  contract  pneu 
monia " 

"  When  are  you  going?  " 

"  To-morrow,  I  think." 

"  Is  it  anything  that  bothers  you?  " 

"  No,  nothing  in  particular.  I  have  a  letter  from 
Acton.  There  seems  to  be  some  uncertainty  developing 
in  one  or  two  business  quarters.  I  thought  I'd  see  for 
myself." 

"  Are  you  worrying?  " 

"  About  what?  " 

"  About  the  Shoshone  Securities  Company  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly  worrying." 

She  shook  her  head,  but  said  nothing  more. 


THE   SILENT   PARTNERS 

During  February  the  work  on  the  Cardross  estate 
developed  sufficiently  to  become  intensely  interesting  to 
the  family.  A  vast  circular  sunken  garden,  bewitchingly 
formal,  and  flanked  by  a  beautiful  terrace  and  balus 
trade  of  coquina,  was  approaching  completion  between 
the  house  and  an  arm  of  the  lagoon.  The  stone  bridge 
over  the  water  remained  unfinished,  but  already,  across 
it,  miles  of  the  wide  forest  avenue  stretched  straight 
away,  set  at  intervals  by  carrefours  centred  with  foun 
tain  basins  from  which  already  tall  sparkling  columns 
of  water  tumbled  up  into  the  sunshine. 

But  still  the  steam  jets  puffed  up  above  the  green 
tree-tops ;  and  the  sickening  whine  of  the  saw-mill,  and 
the  rumble  of  traction  engines  over  rough  new  roads 
of  shell,  and  the  far  racket  of  chisel  and  hammer  on 
wood  and  stone  continued  from  daylight  till  dark. 

Every  day  brought  to  Hamil  new  questions,  new 
delays,  vexations  of  lighting,  problems  of  piping  and 
drainage.  Contractors  and  sub-contractors  beset  him; 
draughtsmen  fairly  buried  him  under  tons  of  drawings 
and  blue-prints.  All  of  which  was  as  nothing  compared 
to  the  labour  squabbles  and  endless  petty  entangle 
ments  which  arose  from  personal  jealousy  or  political 
vindictiveness,  peppered  with  dark  hints  of  peonage, 
threats,  demands,  and  whispers  of  graft. 

The  leasing  of  convict  labour  for  the  more  distant 
road  work  also  worried  him,  but  the  sheriffs  of  Dade 
and  Volusia  were  pillars  of  strength  and  comfort  to  him 
in  perplexity — lean,  soft-spoken,  hawk-faced  gentlemen, 
gentle  and  incorruptible,  who  settled  scuffles  with  a 
glance,  and  local  riots  with  a  deadly  drawl  of  warning 
which  carried  conviction  like  a  bullet  to  the  "  bad " 
nigger  of  the  blue-gum  variety,  as  well  as  to  the  brutish 
white  autocrat  of  the  turpentine  camps. 

211 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


That  the  work  progressed  so  swiftly  was  wonder 
ful,  even  with  the  unlimited  means  of  Neville  Cardross 
to  back  his  demands  for  haste.  And  it  might  have  been 
impossible  to  produce  any  such  results  in  so  short  a 
period  had  there  not  been  contractors  in  the  vicinity 
who  were  accustomed  to  handle  vast  enterprises  on  short 
notice.  Some  of  these  men,  fortunately  for  Hamil,  had 
been  temporarily  released  from  sections  of  the  great  Key 
West  Line  construction;  and  these  contractors  with 
their  men  and  materials  were  immediately  available  for 
the  labour  in  hand. 

So  all  though  February  work  was  rushed  forward; 
and  March  found  the  sunken  garden  in  bloom,  stone- 
edged  pools  full  of  lotus  and  lilies,  orange  trees  blos 
soming  in  a  magnificent  sweep  around  the  balustrade  of 
the  terrace,  and,  beyond,  the  graceful  stone  bridge, 
passable  but  not  quite  completed.  Neither  were  the 
great  systems  of  pools,  fountains,  tanks,  and  lakes  com 
pleted  by  any  means,  but  here  and  there  foaming  jets 
trembled  and  glittered  in  the  sunlight,  and  here  and 
there  placid  reaches,  crystal  clear,  reflected  the  blue 
above. 

As  for  Palm  Beach,  visitors  and  natives  had  watched 
with  liveliest  interest  the  development  of  the  great  Car- 
dross  park.  In  the  height  of  the  season  visits  to  the 
scene  of  operations  were  made  functions;  tourists  and 
residents  gathered  in  swarms  and  took  tea  and  luncheon 
under  the  magnificent  live-oaks  of  the  hammock. 

Mrs.  Cardross  herself  gave  a  number  of  lawn  fetes 
with  the  kindly  intention  of  doing  practical  good  to 
Hamil,  the  success  of  whose  profession  was  so  vitally  de 
pendent  upon  the  approval  and  personal  interest  of 
wealth  and  fashion  and  idleness. 

Shiela  constantly  tormented  him  about  these  func- 


THE   SILENT   PARTNERS 

B»^SS»MBn>BBIMBn«HBIHHnn>«II^HHBBBBIBBBBMH^MHBn^aBaBnBB>inaBnnMBBa(a^BBBaBBHBM 

lions  for  his  benefit,  suggesting  that  he  attire  himself 
in  a  sloppy  velvet  jacket  and  let  his  hair  grow  and 
his  necktie  flow.  She  pretended  to  prepare  placards 
advertising  Hamil's  popular  parks  for  poor  people 
at  cut  rates,  including  wooden  horses  and  a  barrel- 
organ. 

"  An  idea  of  mine,"  she  suggested,  glancing  up 
from  the  writing-pad  on  her  knees,  "  is  to  trim  a  dozen 
alligators  with  electric  lights  and  turn  them  loose  in 
our  lake.  There's  current  enough  in  the  canal  to  keep 
the  lights  going,  isn't  there,  Mr.  Hamil?  Incandescent 
alligators  would  make  Luna  Park  look  like  a  bog  full 
of  fireflies " 

"  O  Shiela,  let  him  alone,"  protested  Mrs.  Car- 
rick.  "  For  all  you  know  Mr.  Hamil  may  be  dread 
fully  sensitive." 

"  I'll  let  him  alone  if  he'll  let  his  beard  grow  horrid 
and  silky  and  permit  us  to  address  him  as  Cher 
maitre " 

"  I  won't  insist  on  that  if  you'll  call  me  by  my  first 
name,"  said  Hamil  mischievously. 

"  I  never  will,"  returned  the  girl.  Always  when  he 
suggested  it,  the  faint  pink  of  annoyed  embarrassment 
tinted  Shiela's  cheeks.  And  now  everybody  in  the  family 
rallied  her  on  the  subject,  for  they  all  had  come  to  call 
him  Garry  by  this  time. 

"  Don't  I  always  say  '  Shiela '  to  you?  "  he  insisted. 

"  Yes,  you  do  and  nobody  was  consulted.  I  informed 
my  mother,  but  she  doesn't  seem  to  resent  it.  So  I  am 
obliged  to.  Besides  I  don't  like  your  first  name." 

Mrs.  Cardross  laughed  gently  over  her  embroider}^ ; 
Malcourt,  who  was  reading  the  stock  column  in  the 
News,  turned  and  looked  curiously  at  Hamil,  then  at 
Shiela.  Then  catching  Mrs.  Carrick's  eye: 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Portlaw  is  rather  worried  over  the  market,"  he 
said.  "  I  think  he's  going  North  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  Why,  Louis !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cardross ;  "  then 
you  will  be  going,  too,  I  suppose." 

"  His  ways  are  my  ways,"  nodded  Malcourt.  "  I've 
been  here  too  long  anyway,"  he  added  in  a  lower  voice, 
folding  the  paper  absently  across  his  knees.  He  glanced 
once  more  at  Shiela,  but  she  had  returned  to  her  letter 
writing. 

Everybody  spoke  of  his  going  in  tones  of  civil  re 
gret — everybody  except  Shiela,  who  had  not  even  looked 
at  him.  Cecile's  observations  were  plainly  perfunctory, 
but  she  made  them  nevertheless,  for  she  had  begun  to 
take  the  same  feminine  interest  in  Malcourt  that  every 
body  was  now  taking  in  view  of  his  very  pronounced 
attentions  to  Virginia  Suydam. 

All  the  world  may  not  love  a  lover,  but  all  the  world 
watches  him.  And  a  great  many  pairs  of  bright  eyes 
and  many  more  pairs  of  faded  ones  were  curiously  fol 
lowing  the  manoeuvres  of  Louis  Malcourt  and  Virginia 
Suydam. 

Very  little  of  what  these  two  people  did  escaped  the 
social  Argus  at  Palm  Beach — their  promenades  on  the 
yerandas  of  the  two  great  hotels,  their  appearance  on 
the  links  and  tennis-courts  together,  their  daily  en 
counter  at  the  bathing-hour,  their  inevitable  meeting 
and  pairing  on  lawn,  in  ballroom,  afloat,  ashore,  wher 
ever  young  people  gathered  under  the  whip  of  light 
social  obligations  or  in  pursuit  of  pleasure. 

And  they  were  discussed.  She  being  older  than 
he,  and  very  wealthy,  the  veranda  discussions  were  not 
always  amiable;  but  nobody  said  anything  very  bitter 
because  Virginia  was  in  a  position  to  be  socially  re 
spected  and  the  majority  of  people  rather  liked 


THE   SILENT  PARTNERS 

Malcourt.  Besides  there  was  just  enough  whispering 
concerning  his  performances  at  the  Club  and  the  com 
pany  he  kept  there  to  pique  the  friendly  curiosity  of 
a  number  of  fashionable  young  matrons  who  are  always 
prepossessed  in  favour  of  a  man  at  whom  convention 
might  possibly  one  day  glance  askance. 

So  everybody  at  Palm  Beach  was  at  least  aware  of 
the  affair.  Hamil  had  heard  of  it  from  his  pretty 
aunt,  and  had  been  thoroughly  questioned.  It  was 
very  evident  that  Miss  Palliser  viewed  the  proceed 
ings  with  dismay  for  she  also  consulted  Wayward, 
and  finally,  during  the  confidential  retiring-hour,  chose 
the  right  moment  to  extract  something  definite  from 
Virginia. 

But  that  pale  and  pretty  spinster  was  too  fluently 
responsive,  admitting  that  perhaps  she  had  been  seeing 
a  little  too  much  of  Malcourt,  protesting  it  to  be  acci 
dental,  agreeing  with  Constance  Palliser  that  more 
discretion  should  be  exercised,  and  promising  it  with  a 
short,  flushed  laugh. 

And  the  next  morning  she  rode  to  the  Inlet  with 
Malcourt,  swam  with  him  to  the  raft,  and  danced  with 
him  until  dawn  at  "  The  Breakers." 

Mrs.  Cardross  and  Jessie  Carrick  bent  over  their 
embroidery ;  Shiela  continued  her  letter  writing  with 
Gra3^'s  stylographic  pen;  Hamil,  booted  and  spurred, 
both  pockets  stuffed  with  plans,  paced  the  terrace  wait 
ing  for  his  horse  to  be  brought  around;  Malcourt  had 
carried  himself  and  his  newspaper  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  terrace,  and  now  stood  leaning  over  the  balus 
trade,  an  unlighted  cigarette  between  his  lips. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  go  to  Luckless  Lake,"  observed 
Hamil,  pausing  beside  Malcourt  in  his  walk. 
15  215 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Yes.  There's  plenty  to  do.  We  stripped  ten 
thousand  trout  in  October,  and  we're  putting  in  German 
boar  this  spring." 

"  I  should  think  your  occupation  would  be  fasci 
nating." 

"Yes?  It's  lonely,  too,  until  Portlaw's  camp 
parties  begin.  I  get  an  overdose  of  nature  at  times. 
There's  nobody  of  my  own  ilk  there  except  our  Yale 
and  Cornell  foresters.  In  winter  it's  deadly,  Hamil, 
deadly!  I  don't  shoot,  you  know;  it's  deathly  enough 
as  it  is." 

"  I  don't  believe  I'd  find  it  so." 

"  You  think  not,  but  you  would.  That  white  soli 
tude  may  be  good  medicine  for  some,  but  it  makes  me 
furious  after  a  while,  and  I  often  wish  that  the  woods 
and  the  deer  and  the  fish  and  I  myself  and  the  whole 
devilish  outfit  were  under  the  North  Pole  and  frozen 
solid!  But  I  can't  afford  to  pick  and  choose.  If  I 
looked  about  for  something  else  to  do  I  don't  believe 
anybody  would  want  me.  Portlaw  pays  me  more  than 
I'm  worth  as  a  Harvard  post-graduate.  And  if  that 
is  an  asset  it's  my  only  one." 

Hamil,  surprised  at  his  bitterness,  looked  at  him 
with  troubled  eyes.  Then  his  eyes  wandered  to  Shiela, 
who  had  now  taken  up  her  embroidery. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Malcourt  impatiently ;  "  I 
like  cities  and  people.  I  always  liked  people.  I  never 
had  enough  of  people.  I  never  had  any  society  as  a 
boy;  and,  Hamil,  you  can't  imagine  how  I  longed  for 
it.  It  would  have  been  well  for  me  to  have  had  it. 
There  was  never  any  in  my  own  home;  there  was  never 
anything  in  my  home  life  but  painful  memories  of 
domestic  trouble  and  financial  stress.  I  was  for  a 
while  asked  to  the  homes  of  schoolmates,  but  could  offer 

216 


THE  SILENT  PARTNERS 

no  hospitality  in  return.  Sensitiveness  and  humiliation 
have  strained  the  better  qualities  out  of  me.  I've  been 
bruised  dry." 

He  leaned  on  his  elbows,  hands  clasped,  looking  out 
into  the  sunlight  where  myriads  of  brilliant  butterflies 
were  fluttering  over  the  carpet  of  white  phlox. 

"  Hamil,"  he  said,  "  whatever  is  harsh,  aggressive, 
cynical,  mean,  sneering,  selfish  in  me  has  been  exter 
nally  acquired.  You  scrape  even  a  spineless  mollusc 
too  long  with  a  pin,  and  the  irritation  produces  a  de 
fensive  crust.  I  began  boy-like  by  being  so  damned 
credulous  and  impulsive  and  affectionate  and  tender 
hearted  that  even  my  kid  sister  laughed  at  me;  and 
she  was  only  three  years  older  than  I.  Then  followed 
that  period  of  social  loneliness,  the  longing  for  the 
companionship  of  boys  and  girls — girls  particularly,  in 
spite  of  agonies  of  shyness  and  the  awakening  terrors 
of  shame  when  the  domestic  troubles  ended  in  an  earth 
quake  which  gave  me  to  my  father  and  Helen  to  my 
mother,  and  a  scandal  to  the  newspapers.  .  .  .  O  hell! 
I'm  talking  like  an  autobiography!  Don't  go,  if  you 
can  stand  it  for  a  moment  longer;  I'm  never  likely  to 
do  it  again." 

Hamil,  silent  and  uncomfortable,  stood  stiffly  up 
right,  gloved  hands  resting  on  the  balustrade  behind 
him.  Malcourt  continued  to  stare  at  the  orange-and- 
yellow  butterflies  dancing  over  the  snowy  beds  of  blos 
soms. 

"  In  college  it  was  the  same,"  he  said.  "  I  had  few 
friends — and  no  home  to  return  to  after — my  father — 
died."  He  hesitated  as  though  listening.  Whenever 
he  spoke  of  his  father,  which  was  seldom,  he  seemed  to 
assume  that  curious  listening  attitude;  as  though  the 
man,  dead  by  his  own  hand,  could  hear  him.  .  .  , 

217 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Wayward  saw  me  through.  I've  paid  him  back  what 
he  spent  on  me.  You  know  his  story;  everybody  does. 
I  like  him  and  sponge  on  him.  We  irritate  each  other; 
I'm  a  beast  to  resent  his  sharpness.  But  he's  not 
right  when  he  says  I  never  had  any  illusions.  ...  I 
had — and  have.  ...  I  do  beastly  things,  too.  .  .  . 
Some  men  will  do  anything  to  crush  out  the  last  quiver 
of  pride  in  them.  .  .  .  And  the  worst  is  that,  mangled, 
torn,  mine  still  palpitates — like  one  of  your  wretched, 
bloody  quail  gaping  on  its  back!  By  God!  At  least, 
I  couldn't  do  that ! — Kill  for  pleasure ! — as  better  men 
than  I  do.  And  better  women,  too!  .  .  .  What  am  I 
talking  about?  I've  done  worse  than  that  on  impulse 
— meaning  well,  like  other  fools." 

Malcourt's  face  had  become  drawn,  sallow,  almost 
sneering ;  but  in  the  slow  gaze  he  turned  on  Hamil  was 
that  blank  hopelessness  which  no  man  can  encounter 
and  remember  unmoved. 

"  Malcourt,"  he  said,  "  you're  morbid.  Men  like 
you;  women  like  you —  So  do  I — now " 

"  It's  too  late.  I  needed  that  sort  of  thing  when  I 
was  younger.  Kindness  arouses  my  suspicion  now. 
Toleration  is  what  it  really  is.  I  have  no  money,  no 
social  position  here — or  abroad ;  only  a  thoroughly  dis 
credited  name  in  two  hemispheres.  It  took  several  gen 
erations  for  the  Malcourts  to  go  to  the  devil;  but  I 
fancy  we'll  all  arrive  on  time.  What  a  reunion !  I  hate 
the  idea  of  family  parties,  even  in  hell." 

He  straightened  up  gracefully  and  lighted  his  ciga 
rette;  then  the  easy  smile  twitched  his  dry  lips  again 
and  he  nodded  mockingly  at  Hamil: 

"  Count  on  my  friendship,  Hamil ;  it's  so  valuable. 
It  has  already  quite  ruined  one  person's  life,  and  will 
no  doubt  damage  others  before  I  flicker  out." 

218 


THE   SILENT  PARTNERS 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Malcourt?  " 

"  What  I  say,  old  fellow.  With  the  best  intentions 
toward  self-sacrifice  I  usually  do  irreparable  damage 
to  the  objects  of  my  regard.  Beware  my  friendship, 
Hamil.  There's  no  luck  in  it  or  me.  ...  But  I  do 
like  you." 

He  laughed  and  sauntered  off  into  the  house  as 
Hamil's  horse  was  brought  around ;  and  Hamil,  travers 
ing  the  terrace,  mounted  under  a  running  fire  of  badi 
nage  from  Shiela  and  Cecile  who  had  just  come  from 
the  tennis-courts  to  attempt  some  hated  embroidery  for 
the  charity  fair  then  impending. 

So  he  rode  away  to  his  duties  in  the  forest,  leaving 
a  placid  sewing-circle  on  the  terrace.  From  which  cir 
cle,  presently,  Shiela  silently  detached  herself,  arms  en 
cumbered  with  her  writing  materials  and  silks.  Stroll 
ing  aimlessly  along  the  balustrade  for  a  while,  watching 
the  bees  scrambling  in  the  scarlet  trumpet-flowers,  she 
wandered  into  the  house  and  through  to  the  cool  patio. 

For  some  days,  now,  after  Hamil's  daily  departure, 
it  had  happened  that  an  almost  unendurable  restlessness 
akin  to  suspense  took  possession  of  her;  a  distaste  and 
impatience  of  people  and  their  voices,  and  the  routine  of 
the  commonplace. 

To  occupy  herself  in  idleness  was  an  effort ;  she  had 
no  desire  to.  She  had  recently  acquired  the  hammock 
habit,  lying  for  hours  in  the  coolness  of  the  patio, 
making  no  effort  to  think,  listening  to  the  splash  of 
the  fountain,  her  book  or  magazine  open  across  her 
breast.  When  people  came  she  picked  up  the  book  and 
scanned  its  pages ;  sometimes  she  made  pretence  of 
sleeping. 

But  that  morning,  Malcourt,  errant,  found  her  read 
ing  in  her  hammock.  Expecting  him  to  pass  his  way 

219 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


as  usual,  she  nodded  with  civil  indifference,  and  con 
tinued  her  reading. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  he  said,  "  if  I  may 
interrupt  you." 

"What  is  it,  Louis?" 

"  May  I  draw  up  a  chair?  " 

"  Why — if  you  wish.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do 
for  you?  " — closing  her  book. 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Shiela?  " 

'A  tinge  of  colour  came  into  her  cheeks. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  in  curt  negation. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure?  " 

"  Quite.     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  might  do  for  your  sake," 
he  smiled — "  blow  my  bally  brains  out." 

She  said  in  a  low  contemptuous  voice:  "Better  re 
sort  to  that  for  your  own  sake  than  do  what  you  are 
doing  to  Miss  Suydam." 

"  What  am  I  doing  to  Miss  Suydam  ?  " 

"  Making  love  to  her." 

He  sat,  eyes  idly  following  the  slight  swaying  mo 
tion  of  her  hammock,  the  smile  still  edging  his  lips. 

"  Don't  worry  about  Miss  Suydam,"  he  said ;  "  she 
can  take  care  of  herself.  What  I  want  to  say  is  this: 
Once  out  of  mistaken  motives — which  nobody,  includ 
ing  yourself,  would  ever  credit — I  gave  you  all  I  had 
to  give — my  name.  .  .  .  It's  not  much  of  a  name;  but 
I  thought  you  could  use  it.  I  was  even  fool  enough  to 
think — other  things.  And  as  usual  I  succeeded  in  in 
juring  where  I  meant  only  kindness.  Can  you  believe 
that?" 

"  I — think  you  meant  it  kindly,"  she  said  under  her 
breath.  "  It  was  my  fault,  Louis.  I  do  not  blame  you, 
if  you  really  cared  for  me.  I've  told  you  so  before." 

220 


THE   SILENT   PARTNERS 

"  Yes,  but  I  was  ass  enough  to  think  you  cared 
for  ratf." 

She  lay  in  her  hammock,  looking  at  him  across  the 
crimson-fringed  border. 

"  There  are  two  ways  out  of  it,"  he  said ;  "  one  is 
divorce.  Have  you  changed  your  mind?  " 

"What  is  the  other?"  she  asked  coldly. 

"  That — if  you  could  ever  learn  to  care  for  me — we 
might  try — "  He  stopped  short. 

For  two  years  he  had  not  ventured  such  a  thing 
to  her.  The  quick,  bright  anger  warned  him  from  her 
eyes.  But  she  said  quietly :  "  You  know  that  is  ut 
terly  impossible." 

"  Is  it  impossible,  Shiela?  " 

"  Absolutely.     And  a  trifle  offensive." 

He  said  pleasantly :  "  I  was  afraid  so,  but  I  wanted 
to  be  sure.  I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you.  People 
change  and  mature  in  two  years.  ...  I  suppose  you 
are  as  angrily  impatient  of  sentiment  in  a  man  as  you 
were  then." 

"  I  cannot  endure  it " 

Her  voice  died  out  and  she  blushed  furiously  as  the 
memory  of  Hamil  flashed  in  her  mind. 

"  Shiela,"  he  said  quietly,  "  now  and  then  there's 
a  streak  of  misguided  decency  in  me.  It  cropped  out 
that  winter  day  when  I  did  what  I  did.  And  I  suppose 
it's  cropping  up  now  when  I  ask  you,  for  your  own 
sake,  to  get  rid  of  me  and  give  yourself  a  chance." 

"How?" 

"  Legally." 

"  I  cannot,  and  you  know  it." 

"  You  are  wrong.  Do  you  think  for  one  moment 
that  your  father  and  mother  would  accept  the  wretched 
sacrifice  you  are  making  of  your  life  if  they  knew " 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  The  old  arguments  again,"  she  said  impatiently. 

"  There  is  a  new  argument,"  said  Malcourt,  staring 
at  her. 

"  What  new  argument?  " 

"  Hamil." 

Then  the  vivid  colour  surged  anew  from  neck  to 
hair,  and  she  rose  in  the  hammock,  bewildered,  burning, 
incensed. 

"  If  it  were  true,"  she  stammered,  leaning  on  one 
arm,  "  do  you  think  me  capable  of  disgracing  my  own 
people?  " 

"  The  disgrace  will  be  mine  and  yours.  Is  not 
Hamil  worth  it?" 

"  No  man  is  worth  any  wrong  I  do  to  my  own 
family!" 

"  You  are  wronging  more  people  than  your  own, 
Shiela " 

"  It  is  not  true!  "  she  said  breathlessly.  "  There  is 
a  nobler  happiness  than  one  secured  at  the  expense 
of  selfishness  and  ingratitude.  I  tell  you,  as  long  as  I 
live,  I  will  not  have  them  know  or  suffer  because  of 
my  disgraceful  escapade  with  you !  You  probably 
meant  well;  I  must  have  been  crazy,  I  think.  But 
we've  got  to  endure  the  consequences.  If  there's  un- 
happiness  and  pain  to  be  borne,  we've  got  to  bear  it — 
we  alone : 

"  And  Hamil.     All  three  of  us." 

She  looked  at  him  desperately ;  read  in  his  cool  gaze 
that  she  could  not  deceive  him,  and  remained  silent. 

"  What  about  Hamil's  unhappiness  ? "  repeated 
Malcourt  slowly. 

"  If — if  he  has  any,  he  requires  no  instruction  how 
to  bear  it." 

Malcourt  nodded,  then,  with  a  weary  smile :  "  I  do 
£££ 


THE   SILENT   PARTNERS 

not  plead  with  you  for  my  own  chance  of  happiness. 
Yet,  you  owe  me  something,  Shiela." 

"What?" 

"  The  right  to  face  the  world  under  true  colours. 
You  owe  me  that." 

She  whitened  to  the  lips.     "  I  know  it." 

"Suppose  I  ask  for  that  right?" 

"  I  have  always  told  you  that,  if  you  demanded  it, 
I  would  take  your  name  openly." 

"  Yes ;  but  now  you  admit  that  you  love  Hamil." 

"  Love !  Love !  "  she  repeated,  exasperated.  "  What 
has  that  got  to  do  with  it?  I  know  what  the  law  of 
obligation  is.  You  meant  to  be  generous  to  me  and 
you  ruined  your  own  life.  If  your  future  career  re 
quires  me  to  publicly  assume  your  name  and  a  place  in 
your  household,  I've  told  you  that  I'll  pay  that  debt." 

"  Very  well.     When  will  you  pay  it  ?  " 

She  blanched  pitifully. 

"  When  you  insist,  Louis." 

"  Do  you  mean  you  would  go  out  there  to  the  ter 
race,  now\ — and  tell  your  mother  what  you've  done?" 

"  Yes,  if  I  must,"  she  answered  faintly. 

"  In  other  words,  because  you  think  you're  in  my 
debt,  you  stand  ready  to  acknowledge,  on  demand, 
what  I  gave  you — my  name?  " 

Her  lips  moved  in  affirmation,  but  deep  in  her  sick 
ened  eyes  he  saw  terror  unspeakable. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  looking  away  from  her,  "  don't 
worry,  Shiela.  I'm  not  asking  that  of  you;  in  fact 
I  don't  want  it.  That's  not  very  complimentary,  but 
it  ought  to  relieve  you.  .  .  .  I'm  horribly  sorry  about 
Hamil;  I  like  him;  I'd  like  to  do  something  for  him. 
But  if  I  attempted  anything  it  would  turn  out  all 
wrong.  ...  As  for  you — well,  you  are  plucky.  Poor 

£23 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


little  girl!  I  wish  I  could  help  you  out — short  of  a 
journey  to  eternity.  And  perhaps  I'll  take  that  be 
fore  very  long,"  he  added  gaily ;  "  I  smoke  too  many 
cigarettes.  Cheer  up,  Shiela,  and  send  me  a  few  thou 
sand  for  Easter." 

He  rose,  gracefully  as  always,  picked  up  the  book 
from  where  it  lay  tumbled  in  the  netting  of  the  ham 
mock,  glanced  casually  through  a  page  or  two. 

Still  scanning  the  print,  he  said: 

"  I  wanted  to  give  you  a  chance ;  I'm  going  North 
in  a  day  or  two.  It  isn't  likely  we'll  meet  again 
very  soon.  ...  So  I  thought  I'd  speak.  .  .  .  And, 
if  at  any  time  you  change  your  ideas — I  won't  op 
pose  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Louis." 

He  was  running  over  the  pages  rapidly  now,  the 
same  unchanging  smile  edging  his  lips. 

"  The  unexpected  sometimes  happens,  Shiela — par 
ticularly  when  it's  expected.  There  are  ways  and 
ways — particularly  when  one  is  tired — too  tired  to  lie 
awake  and  listen  any  longer,  or  resist.  .  .  .  My  father 
used  to  say  that  anybody  who  could  use  an  anaesthetic 
was  the  equal  of  any  graduate  physician 

"  Louis !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

But  his  head  was  bent  again  in  that  curious  atti 
tude  of  listening;  and  after  a  moment  he  made  an 
almost  imperceptible  gesture  of  acquiescence,  and 
turned  to  her  with  the  old,  easy,  half-impudent,  half- 
challenging  air. 

"  Gray  has  a  butterfly  in  his  collection  which  shows 
four  distinct  forms.  Once  people  thought  these  forms 
were  distinct  species ;  now  they  know  they  all  are  the 
same  species  of  butterfly  in  various  suits  of  disguise — 
just  as  you  might  persuade  yourself  that  unhappiness 


THE  SILENT  PARTNERS 

and  happiness  are  radically  different.  But  some  peo 
ple  find  satisfaction  in  being  unhappy,  and  some  find 
it  in  being  happy ;  and  as  it's  all  only  the  gratification 
of  that  imperious  egotism  we  call  conscience,  the  spe 
cific  form  of  all  is  simply  ethical  selfishness." 

He  laughed  unrestrainedly  at  his  own  will-o'-the- 
wisp  philosophy,  looking  very  handsome  and  care-free 
there  where  the  noon  sun  slanted  across  the  white  ar 
cade  all  thick  with  golden  jasmine  bloom. 

And  Shiela,  too  intelligent  to  mistake  him,  smiled  a 
little  at  his  gay  perversity. 

He  met  Portlaw,  later,  at  the  Beach  Club  for 
luncheon ;  and,  as  the  latter  looked  particularly  fat, 
warm,  and  worried,  Malcourt's  perverse  humour  re 
mained  in  the  ascendant,  and  he  tormented  Portlaw 
until  that  badgered  gentleman  emitted  a  bellow  of  exas 
peration. 

"  What  on  earth's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Malcourt  in 
pretended  astonishment.  "  I  thought  I  was  being 
funny." 

"  Funny !  Does  a  man  want  to  be  prodded  with  wit 
at  his  own  expense  when  the  market  is  getting  fun 
nier  every  hour — at  his  expense?  Go  and  look  at  the 
tape  if  you  want  to  know  why  I  don't  enjoy  either  your 
wit  or  this  accursed  luncheon." 

"  What's  happening,  Portlaw?  " 

"  I  wish  you'd  tell  me." 

"  Muck-raking?  " 

"  Partly,  I  suppose." 

"  Administration  ?  " 

"  People  say  so.  I  don't  believe  it.  There's  a  rot 
ten  lot  of  gambling  going  on.  How  do  I  know  what's 
the  matter?" 

225 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


"  Perhaps  there  isn't  anything  the  matter,  old 
fellow." 

"  Well,  there  is.  I  can  sniff  it  'way  down  here.  And 
I'm  going  home  to  walk  about  and  listen  and  sniff  some 
more.  Sag,  sag,  sag! — that's  what  the  market  has 
been  doing  for  months.  Yet,  if  I  sell  it  short,  it  rallies 
on  me  and  I'm  chased  to  cover.  I  go  long  and  the 
tiling  sags  like  the  panties  on  that  French  count,  yon 
der.  .  .  .  Who's  the  blond  girl  with  him?  " 

"  Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  beast," 
observed  Malcourt.  "  Hope  is  a  bird,  Forty,  old 
chap " 

"  Hope  is  a  squab,"  growled  Portlaw,  swallowing 
vast  quantities  of  claret,  "  all  squashy  and  full  of  pin- 
feathers.  That's  what  hope  is.  It  needs  a  thorough 
roasting,  and  it's  getting  it." 

"  Exquisite  metaphor,"  mused  Malcourt,  gazing 
affably  at  the  rather  blond  girl  who  crumbled  her 
bread  and  looked  occasionally  and  blankly  at  him,  oc 
casionally  and  affectionately  at  the  French  count,  her 
escort,  who  was  consuming  lobster  with  characteristic 
Gallic  thoroughness  and  abandon. 

"The  world,"  quoted  Malcourt,  "is  so  full  of  a 
number  of  things.  You're  one  of  'em,  Port/aw;  I'm 
several.  .  .  .  Well,  if  you're  going  North  I'd  better 
begin  to  get  ready." 

"  What  have  you  got  to  do  ?  " 

"  One  or  two  friends  of  mine  who  preside  in  the 
Temple  of  Chance  yonder.  Oh,  don't  assume  that  ba 
byish  pout!  I've  won  enough  back  to  keep  going  for 
the  balance  of  the  time  we  remain." 

Portlaw,  pleased   and  relieved,   finished  his  claret. 

"  You've  a  few  ladies  to  take  leave  of,  also?"  he 
said  briskly. 


THE   SILENT  PARTNERS 

"  Really,  Portlaw !  " — in  gentle  admonition. 

u  Haw !  Haw !  "  roared  Portlaw,  startling  the  en 
tire  cafe ;  "  you'd  better  get  busy.  There'll  be  a  run 
on  the  bank.  There'll  be  a  waiting  line  before  Mai- 
court  &  Co.  opens  for  business,  each  fair  penitent  with 
her  little  I.  O.  U.  to  be  cashed!  Haw!  Haw!  Sad 
dog !  Bad  dog !  The  many-sided  Malcourt !  Come  on ; 
I've  got  a  motor  across  the " 

"  And  I've  an  appointment  with  several  superflu 
ous  people  and  a  girl,"  said  Malcourt  drily.  Then  he 
glanced  at  the  blond  companion  of  the  count  who  con 
tinued  crumbling  bread  between  her  brilliantly  ringed 
fingers  as  though  she  had  never  before  seen  Louis  Mal 
court.  The  price  of  diamonds  varies.  Sometimes  it  is 
merely  fastidious  observance  of  convention  and  a  sen 
sitive  escort.  It  all  depends  on  the  world  one  inhabits ; 
it  does  indeed. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

STRATEGY 

AN  hour  or  two  later  that  afternoon  Wayward  and 
Constance  Palliser,  Gussie  Vetchen,  and  Livingston 
Cuyp  gazed  with  variously  mingled  sentiments  upon 
the  torpid  saurians  belonging  to  one  Alligator  Joe  in 
an  enclosure  rather  remote  from  the  hotel. 

Vetchen  bestowed  largess  upon  the  small,  freckled 
boy  attendant ;  and  his  distinguished  disapproval  upon 
the  largest  lady-crocodile  which,  with  interlocked  but 
grinning  jaws,  slumbered  under  a  vertical  sun  in  mono 
chromatic  majesty. 

"  One  perpetual  and  gigantic  simper,"  he  said,  dis 
gusted. 

"  Rather  undignified  for  a  thing  as  big  as  that  to 
lay  eggs  like  a  hen,"  observed  Cuyp,  not  intending  to 
be  funny. 

Wayward  and  Miss  Palliser  had  wandered  off  to 
gether  to  inspect  the  pumps.  Vetchen,  always  inquisi 
tive,  had  discovered  a  coy  manatee  in  one  tank,  and 
was  all  for  poking  it  with  his  walking-stick  until  he 
saw  its  preposterous  countenance  emerge  from  the 
water. 

"  Great  heavens,"  he  faltered,  "  it  looks  like  a 
Dutch  ancestor  of  Cuyp's !  " 

Cuyp,  intensely  annoyed,  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  Where  the  mischief  did  Miss   Suydam  and  Mai- 


STRATEGY 

court  go  ?  "  he  asked  Wayward.      "  I  say,  Miss  Pal- 
liser,  you  don't  want  to  wait  here  any  longer,  do  you?  " 

"  They're  somewhere  in  the  labyrinth,"  said  Way 
ward.  "  Their  chair  went  that  way,  didn't  it,  boy  ?  " 

"  Yeth,  thir,"  said  the  small  and  freckled  attendant. 

So  the  party  descended  the  wooden  incline  to  where 
their  sleepy  black  chairmen  lay  on  the  grass,  waiting; 
and  presently  the  two  double  chairs  wheeled  away 
toward  that  amusing  maze  of  jungle  pathways  cut 
through  the  impenetrable  hammock,  and  popularly 
known  as  the  labyrinth. 

But  Miss  Suydam  and  Mr.  Malcourt  were  not  in 
the  labyrinth.  At  that  very  moment  they  were  slowly 
strolling  along  the  eastern  dunes  where  the  vast  soli 
tude  of  sky  and  sea  seemed  to  depress  even  the  single 
white-headed  eagle  standing  on  the  wet  beach,  head  and 
tail  adroop,  motionless,  fish-gorged.  No  other  living 
thing  was  in  sight  except  the  slim,  blue  dragon-flies, 
ceaselessly  darting  among  the  beach-grapes ;  nothing 
else  stirred  except  those  two  figures  on  the  dunes,  mov 
ing  slowly,  heads  bent  as  though  considering  the  ad 
visability  of  every  step  in  the  breaking  sands.  There 
was  a  fixed  smile  on  the  girl's  lips,  but  her  eyes  were 
mirthless,  almost  vacant. 

"  So  you've  decided  to  go  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Portlaw  decides  that  sort  of  thing  for  me." 

"  It's  a  case  of  necessity?  " 

Malcourt  answered  lightly :  "  He  intends  to  go. 
Who  can  stop  a  fat  and  determined  man?  Besides, 
the  season  is  over ;  in  two  weeks  there  will  be  nobody 
left  except  the  indigenous  nigger,  the  buzzards,  and  a 
few  cast-off  summer  garments ; 

"  And  a  few  cast-off  winter  memories,"  she  said. 
66  You  will  not  take  any  away  with  you,  will  you?  " 

229 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Do  you  mean  clothes  ?  " 

"  Memories." 

"  I'll  take  some." 

"Which?" 

"  All  those  concerning  you." 

"  Thank  you,  Louis."  They  had  got  that  far. 
And  a  trifle  farther,  for  her  hand,  swinging  next  his, 
encountered  it  and  their  fingers  remained  interlocked. 
But  there  was  no  change  of  expression  in  her  pretty, 
pale  face  as,  head  bent,  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  him, 
she  moved  thoughtfully  onward  along  the  dunes,  the 
fixed  smile  stamped  on  her  lips. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  memories?  " 
she  asked.  "  Pigeon-hole  and  label  them  ?  Or  fling 
them,  like  your  winter  repentance,  in  the  Fire  of 
Spring?  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yours,  Vir 
ginia  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  They  are  not  disturbing  enough  to 
destroy.  Besides,  unlike  yours,  they  are  my  first  mem 
ories  of  indiscretions,  and  they  are  too  new  to  for 
get  easily,  too  incredible  yet  to  hurt.  A  woman  is  sel 
dom  hurt  by  what  she  cannot  understand." 

He  passed  one  arm  around  her  supple  waist;  they 
halted;  he  turned  her  toward  him. 

"  What  is  it  you  don't  understand?  " 

"  This." 

"  My  kissing  you  ?     Like  this  ?  " 

She  neither  avoided  nor  returned  the  caress,  look 
ing  at  him  out  of  impenetrable  eyes  more  green  than 
blue  like  the  deep  sea  under  changing  skies. 

"  Is  this  what  you  don't  understand,  Virginia?  w 

"  Yes ;  that — and  your  moderation." 

His  smile  changed,  but  it  was  still  a  smile. 
230 


STRATEGY 

"  Nor  I,"  he  said.  "  Like  our  friend,  Lord 
Clive,  I  am  astonished.  But  there  our  resemblance 
ends." 

The  eagle  on  the  wet  sands  ruffled,  shook  his  sil 
very  hackles,  and  looked  around  at  them.  Then,  head 
low  and  thrust  forward,  he  hulked  slowly  toward  the 
remains  of  the  dead  fish  from  which  but  now  he  had 
retired  in  the  disgust  of  satiation. 

Meanwhile  Malcourt  and  Miss  Suydam  were  walk 
ing  cautiously  forward  again,  selecting  every  footstep 
as  though  treading  on  the  crumbling  edges  of  an 
abyss. 

"  It's  rather  stupid  that  I  never  suspected  it,"  she 
said,  musing  aloud. 

"Suspected  what?" 

"  The  existence  of  this  other  woman  called  Virginia 
Suydam.  And  I  might  have  been  mercifully  ignorant 
of  her  until  I  died,  if  you  had  not  looked  at  me  and 
seen  us  both  at  once." 

"  We  all  are  that  way." 

"  Not  all  women,  Louis.  Have  you  found  them  so? 
You  need  not  answer.  There  is  in  you,  sometimes,  a 
flash  of  infernal  chivalry ;  do  you  know  it  ?  I  can  for 
give  you  a  great  deal  for  it ;  even  for  discovering  that 
other  and  not  very  staid  person,  so  easily  schooled, 
easily  taught  to  respond;  so  easily  thrilled,  easily  be 
guiled,  easily  caressed.  Why,  with  her  head  falling 
back  on  your  shoulder  so  readily,  and  her  lips  so 
lightly  persuaded,  one  can  scarcely  believe  her  to  have 
been  untaught  through  all  these  years  of  dry  conven 
tion  and  routine,  or  unaware  of  that  depravity,  latent, 
which  it  took  your  unerring  faith  and  skill  to  discover 
and  develop." 

"  How  far  hare  I  developed  it?  " 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


She  bent  her  delicate  head :  "  I  believe  I  have 
already  admitted  your  moderation." 

He  shivered,  walking  forward  without  looking  at 
her  for  a  pace  or  two,  then  halted. 

"  Would  you  marry  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  had  rather  not.     You  know  it." 

"  Why  ? — once  again." 

"  Because  of  my  strange  respect  for  that  other 
woman  that  I  am — or  was.*' 

"  Which  always  makes  me  regret  my — moderation," 
he  said,  wincing  under  the  lash  of  her  words.  "  But 
I'm  not  considering  you !  I'm  considering  the  peace  of 
mind  of  that  other  woman — not  yours !  "  He  took  her 
in  his  arms,  none  too  gently.  "  Not  yours.  I'd  show 
no  mercy  to  you\  There  is  only  one  kind  of  mercy 
you'd  understand.  Look  into  my  eyes  and  admit  it." 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

"  But  your  other  self  understands !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  destroy  her  ?  " 

"And  let  her  die  in  her  contempt  for  me?  You 
ask  too  much — Virginia- that-I-know.  If  that  other 
Virginia-that-I-don't-know  loved  me,  I'd  kill  this  one, 
not  the  other !  " 

"  Do  you  care  for  that  one,  Louis?  " 

"What  answer  shall  I  make?" 

"  The  best  you  can  without  lying." 

"  Then  " — and  being  in  his  arms  their  eyes  were 
close — "  then  I  think  I  could  love  her  if  I  had  a  chance. 
I  don't  know.  I  can  deny  myself.  They  say  that  is 
the  beginning.  But  I  seldom  do — very  seldom.  And 
that  is  the  best  answer  I  can  give,  and  the  truest." 

"Thank  you.  .  .  .  And  so  you  are  going  to 
leave  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  North.     Yes." 


STRATEGY 

"What  am  I  to  do?" 

"  Return  to  jour  other  self  and  forget  me." 

"  Thank  you  again.  .  .  .  Do  you  know,  Louis,  that 
you  have  never  once  by  hint  or  by  look  or  by  silence 
suggested  that  it  was  I  who  deliberately  offered  you 
the  first  provocation?  That  is  another  flicker  of  that 
infernal  chivalry  of  yours." 

"  Does  your  other  self  approve  ?  "  he  said,  laugh 
ing. 

"  My  rther  self  is  watching  us  both  very  closely, 
Louis.  I— I  wish,  sometimes,  she  were  dead !  Louis  ! 
Louis!  as  I  am  now,  here  in  your  arms,  I  thought  I 
had  descended  sufficiently  to  meet  you  on  your  own 
plane.  But — you  seem  higher  up — at  moments.  .  .  . 
And  now,  when  you  are  going,  you  tell  my  other  self 
to  call  in  the  creature  we  let  loose  together,  for  it  will 
have  no  longer  any  counterpart  to  caress.  .  .  .  Louis ! 
I  do  love  you ;  how  can  I  let  you  go !  Can  you  tell  me? 
What  am  I  to  do?  There  are  times — there  are  mo 
ments  when  I  cannot  endure  it — the  thought  of  losing 
the  disgrace  of  your  lips — your  arms — the  sound  of 
your  voice.  Don't  go  and  leave  me  like  this — don't 

Miss  Suydam's  head  fell.     She  was  crying. 

The  eagle  on  the  wet  beach,  one  yellow  talon  firmly 
planted  on  its  offal,  tore  strip  after  strip  from  the  quiv 
ering  mass.  The  sun  etched  his  tinted  shadow  on  the 
sand. 

When  the  tears  of  Miss  Suydam  had  been  appro 
priately  dried,  they  turned  and  retraced  their  steps 
very  slowly,  her  head  resting  against  his  shoulder,  his 
arm  around  her  thin  waist,  her  own  hand  hanging 
loosely,  trailing  the  big  straw  hat  and  floating  veil. 

233 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


They  spoke  very  seldom — very,  very  seldom.  Mai- 
court  was  too  busy  thinking;  Virginia  too  stunned  to 
realise  that  it  was,  now,  her  other  austere  self,  bewil 
dered,  humiliated,  desperate,  which  was  walking  amid 
the  solitude  of  sky  and  sea  with  Louis  Malcourt,  there 
beneath  the  splendour  of  the  westering  sun. 

The  eagle,  undisturbed,  tore  at  the  dead  thing  on 
the  beach,  one  yellow  talon  embedded  in  the  offal. 

Their  black  chair-boy  lay  asleep  under  a  thicket  of 
Spanish  bayonet. 

"  Arise,  O  Ethiope,  and  make  ready  unto  us  a 
chariot ! "  said  Malcourt  pleasantly ;  and  he  guided 
Virginia  into  her  seat  while  the  fat  darky  climbed  up 
behind,  rubbing  slumber  from  his  rolling  and  enormous 
eyes. 

Half-way  through  the  labyrinth  they  met  Miss  Pal- 
liser  and  Wayward. 

"  Where  on  earth  have  you  been  ?  "  asked  Virginia, 
so  candidly  that  Wayward,  taken  aback,  began  excuses. 
But  Constance  Palliser's  cheeks  turned  pink;  and  re 
mained  so  during  her  silent  ride  home  with  Wayward. 

Lately  the  world  had  not  been  spinning  to  suit  the 
taste  of  Constance  Palliser.  For  one  thing  Wayward 
was  morose.  Besides  he  appeared  physically  ill.  She 
shrank  from  asking  herself  the  reason ;  she  might  better 
have  asked  him  for  her  peace  of  mind. 

Another  matter:  Virginia,  the  circumspect,  the 
caste-bound,  the  intolerant,  the  emotionless,  was  dis 
playing  the  astounding  symptoms  peculiar  to  the  minx ! 
And  she  had  neither  the  excuse  of  ignorance  nor  of 
extreme  youth.  Virginia  was  a  mature  maiden,  calmly 
cognisant  of  the  world,  and  coolly  alive  to  the  doubtful 
phases  of  that  planet.  And  why  on  earth  she  chose  to 


^ STRATEGY 

afliche  herself  with  a  man  like  Malcourt,  Constance 
could  not  comprehend. 

And  another  thing  worried  the  pretty  spinster — the 
comings,  goings,  and  occult  doings  of  her  nephew  with 
the  most  distractingly  lovely  and  utterly  impossible 
girl  that  fate  ever  designed  to  harass  the  soul  of  any 
young  man's  aunt. 

That  Hamil  was  already  in  love  with  Shiela  Card- 
ross  had  become  painfully  plainer  to  her  every  time  she 
saw  him.  True,  others  were  in  love  with  Miss  Cardross ; 
that  state  of  mind  and  heart  seemed  to  be  chronic  at 
Palm  Beach.  Gussie  Vetchen  openly  admitted  his  dis 
tinguished  consideration,  and  Courtlandt  Classon  tod 
dled  busily  about  Shiela's  court,  and  even  the  forlorn 
Cuyp  had  become  disgustingly  unfaithful  and  no 
longer  wrinkled  his  long  Dutch  nose  into  a  series  of 
white  corrugations  when  Wayward  took  Miss  Pal- 
liser  away  from  him.  Alas !  the  entire  male  world 
seemed  to  trot  in  the  wake  of  this  sweet-eyed  young 
Circe,  emitting  appealingly  gentle  and  propitiating 
grunts. 

"  The  very  deuce  is  in  that  girl !  "  thought  Con 
stance,  exasperated ;  "  and  the  sooner  Garry  goes  North 
the  better.  He's  madly  unhappy  over  her.  .  .  .  Fas 
cinating  little  thing!  /  can't  blame  him  too  much — 
except  that  he  evidently  realises  he  can't  marry  such  a 
person " 

The  chair  rolled  into  the  hotel  grounds  under  the 
arch  of  jasmine.  The  orchestra  was  playing  in  the 
colonnade;  tea  had  been  served  under  the  cocoa-nut 
palms ;  pretty  faces  and  gay  toilets  glimmered  famil 
iarly  as  the  chair  swept  along  the  edge  of  the  throng. 

"  Tell  the  chair-boy  that  we'll  tea  here,  Jim,"  said 
Miss  Palliser,  catching  sight  of  her  nephew  and  the 

235 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


guilty  Circe  under  whose  gentle  thrall  Hamil  was  now 
boldly  imbibing  a  swizzle. 

So  Wayward  nodded  to  the  charioteer,  the  chair 
halted,  and  he  and  Constance  disembarked  and  advanced 
across  the  grass  to  exchange  amenities  with  friends  and 
acquaintances.  Which  formalities  always  fretted  Way 
ward,  and  he  stood  about,  morose  and  ungracious,  while 
Constance  floated  prettily  here  and  there,  and  at  la§t 
turned  with  nicely  prepared  surprise  to  encounter  Shiela 
and  Hamil  seated  just  behind  her. 

The  younger  girl,  rising,  met  her  more  than  half 
way  with  gloved  hand  frankly  offered ;  Wayward  turned 
to  Hamil  in  subdued  relief. 

"  Lord !  I've  been  looking  at  those  confounded  alli 
gators  and  listening  to  Vetchen's  and  Cuyp's  twaddle! 
Constance  wouldn't  talk ;  and  I'm  quite  unfit  for  print. 
What's  that  in  your  glass,  Garry  ?  " 

"  A  swizzle " 

"Anything  in  it  except  lime-juice  and  buzz?" 

"  Yes " 

"  Then  I  won't  have  one.  Constance !  Are  you 
drinking  tea?  " 

"Do  you  want  some?"  she  asked,  surprised. 

"  Yes,  I  do — if  you  can  give  me  some  without  ask 
ing  how  many  lumps  I  take — like  the  inevitable  heroine 
in  a  British  work  of  fiction " 

"  Jim,  what  a  bear  you  are  to-day !  "  And  to  Shiela, 
who  was  laughing :  "  He  snapped  and  growled  at  Gussie 
Vetchen  and  he  glared  and  glowered  at  Livingston 
Cuyp,  and  he's  scarcely  vouchsafed  a  word  to  me  this 
afternoon  except  the  civility  you  have  just  heard.  Jim, 
I  will  ask  you  how  many  lumps " 

"O  Lord!  Britain  triumphant!  Two — I  think; 
ten  if  you  wish,  Constance — or  none  at  all.  Miss 

236 


STRATEGY 

Cardross,  you  wouldn't  say  such  things  to  me,  would 
you?" 

"  Don't  answer  him,"  interposed  Constance ;  "  if  you 
do  you'll  take  him  away,  and  I  haven't  another  man 
left!  Why  are  you  such  a  dreadful  devastator,  Miss 
Cardross?  .  .  .  Here's  your  tea,  James.  Please  turn 
around  and  occupy  yourself  with  my  nephew;  I'd  like 
a  chance  to  talk  to  Miss  Cardross." 

The  girl  had  seated  herself  beside  Miss  Palliser,  and, 
as  Wayward  moved  over  to  the  other  table,  she  gave  him 
a  perverse  glance,  so  humourous  and  so  wholly  adorable 
that  Constance  Palliser  yielded  to  the  charm  with  an 
amused  sigh  of  resignation. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  Miss  Suydam  and  I  are 
going  North  very  soon,  and  we  are  coming  to  see  your 
mother  at  the  first  opportunity." 

"  Mother  expects  you,"  said  the  girl  simply.  "  I 
did  not  know  that  she  knew  Miss  Suydam — or  cared  to." 

Something  in  the  gentle  indifference  of  the  words 
sent  the  conscious  blood  pulsing  into  Miss  Palliser's 
cheeks.  Then  she  said  frankly: 

"Has  Virginia  been  rude  to  you?" 

«  Yes— a  little." 

"Unpardonably?" 

"  N-no.     I  always  can  pardon." 

"  You  dear !  "  said  Constance  impulsively.  "  Lis 
ten;  Virginia  does  snippy  things  at  times.  I  don't 
know  why  and  she  doesn't  either.  I  know  she's  sorry 
she  was  rude  to  you,  but  she  seems  to  think  her  rudeness 
too  utterly  unpardonable.  May  I  tell  her  it  isn't?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Shiela  quietly. 

Miss  Palliser  looked  at  her,  then,  succumbing,  took 
her  hand  in  hers. 

"  No  wonder  people  like  you,  Miss  Cardross." 
237 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"Do 

"  How  could  I  escape  the  popular  craze?  "  laughed 
Miss  Palliser,  a  trifle  embarrassed. 

"  That  is  not  an  answer,"  returned  Shiela,  the  smile 
on  her  red  lips  faintly  wistful.  And  Constance  sur 
rendered  completely. 

"  You  sweet,  cunning  thing,"  she  said,  "  I  do  like 
you.  You  are  perfectly  adorable,  for  one  reason ;  for 
the  other,  there  is  something — a  nameless  something 
about  you " 

"  Quite — nameless,"  said  the  girl  under  her  breath. 

A  little  flash  of  mist  confused  Miss  Palliser's  eye 
sight  for  a  moment;  her  senses  warned  her,  but  her 
heart  was  calling. 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  "  I  could  love  you  very  easily." 

Shiela  looked  her  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"  What  you  give  I  can  return ;  no  more,  no 
less " 

But  already  Constance  Palliser  had  lifted  the  girl's 
smooth  hand  to  her  lips,  murmuring :  "  Pride !  pride ! 
It  is  the  last  refuge  for  social  failures,  Shiela.  And 
you  are  too  wise  to  enter  there,  too  sweet  and  whole 
some  to  remain.  Leave  us  our  obsolete  pride,  child; 
God  knows  we  need  something  in  compensation  for  all 
that  you  possess." 

Later  they  sipped  their  tea  together.  "  I  always 
wanted  you  to  like  me,"  said  the  girl.  Her  glance  wan 
dered  toward  Hamil  so  unconsciously  that  Constance 
caught  her  breath.  But  the  spell  was  on  her  still ;  she, 
too,  looked  at  Hamil;  admonition,  prejudice,  inculcated 
precept,  wavered  hazily. 

"  Because  I  care  so  much  for  Mr.  Hamil,"  con 
tinued  the  girl  innocently. 

For  one  instant,  in  her  inmost  intelligence,  Miss 
238 


STRATEGY 

Palliser  fiercely  questioned  that  innocence;  then,  con 
vinced,  looked  questioningly  at  the  girl  beside  her.  So 
questioningly  that  Shiela  answered: 

"  What  ?  " — as  though  the  elder  woman  had  spoken. 

"  I  don't  know,  dear.  ...  Is  there  anything  you — 
you  cared  to  ask  me? — say  to  me? — tell  me? — per 
haps " 

"About  what?" 

So  fearless  and  sweet  and  true  the  gaze  that  met 
her  own  that  Constance  hesitated. 

"About  Mr.  Hamil?" 

The  girl  looked  at  her ;  understood  her ;  and  the 
colour  mounted  to  her  temples. 

"  No,"  she  said  slowly,  "  there  is  nothing  to  tell 
anybody.  .  .  .  There  never  will  be." 

"  I  wish  there  were,  child."  Certainly  Constance 
must  have  gone  quite  mad  under  the  spell,  for  she  had 
Shiela's  soft  hands  in  hers  again,  and  was  pressing 
them  close  between  her  palms,  repeating :  "  I  am  sorry ; 
I  am,  indeed.  The  boy  certainly  cares  for  you ;  he  has 
told  me  so  a  thousand  times  without  uttering  a  word. 
I  have  known  it  for  weeks — feared  it.  Now  I  wish  it. 
I  am  sorry." 

"Mr.  Hamil— understands— "  faltered  Shiela;  "I 
—I  care  so  much  for  him — so  much  more  than  for  any 
other   man;  but   not   in  the  way   you — you  are  kind 
enough  to — wish " 

"  Does  he  understand  ?  " 

"  Y-yes.  I  think  so.  I  think  we  understand  each 
other — thoroughly.  But  " — she  blushed  vividly — "  I — 
I  did  not  dream  that  you  supposed " 

Miss  Palliser  looked  at  her  searchingly. 

"  — But — it  has  made  me  very  happy  to  believe  that 
you  consider  me — acceptable." 

239 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Dearest  child,  it  is  evident  that  we  are  the  unac 
ceptable  ones " 

"  Please  don't  say  that — or  think  it.  It  is  absurd 
— in  one  sense.  .  .  .  Are  we  to  be  friends  in  town?  Is 
that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Indeed  we  are,  if  you  will." 

Miss  Cardross  nodded  and  withdrew  her  hands  as 
Virginia  and  Malcourt  came  into  view  across  the  lawn. 

Constance,  following  her  glance,  saw,  and  signalled 
silent  invitation;  Malcourt  sauntered  up,  paid  his  re 
spects  airily,  and  joined  Hamil  and  Wayward;  Virginia 
spoke  in  a  low  voice  to  Constance,  then,  leaning  on  the 
back  of  her  chair,  looked  at  Shiela  as  inoffensively  as 
she  knew  how.  She  said : 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  my  rudeness  to  you.  Can 
you  forgive  me,  Miss  Cardross?  " 

"Yes.  .  .  .  Won't  you  have  some  tea?" 

Her  direct  simplicity  left  Virginia  rather  taken 
aback.  Perhaps  she  expected  some  lack  of  composure 
in  the  girl,  perhaps  a  more  prolix  acceptance  of  honour 
able  amends ;  but  this  terse  and  serene  amiability  almost 
suggested  indifference;  and  Virginia  seated  herself,  not 
quite  knowing  how  she  liked  it. 

Afterward  she  said  to  Miss  Palliser : 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  self-possession,  my  dear? 
You  know  I  might  pardon  my  maid  in  exactly  the  same 
tone  and  manner." 

"  But  vou  wouldn't  ask  your  maid  to  tea,  would 
you?  "  said  Constance,  gently  amused. 

"  I  might,  if  I  could  afford  to,"  she  nodded  listlessly. 
"  I  believe  that  girl  could  do  it  without  disturbing  her 
own  self-respect  or  losing  caste  below  stairs  or  above. 
As  for  the  Van  Dieman — just  common  cat,  Constance." 


STRATEGY 

Miss  Palliser  laughed.  "  Shiela  Cardross  refused  the 
Van  Dieman  son  and  heir — if  you  think  that  might  be 
an  explanation  of  the  cattishness." 

"  Really  ? "  asked  Virginia,  without  interest. 
"  Where  did  you  hear  that  gossip?  " 

"  From  our  vixenish  tabby  herself.  The  thin  and 
vindictive  are  usually  without  a  real  sense  of  humour.  I 
rather  suspected  young  Jan  Van  Dieman's  discomfiture. 
He  left,  you  know,  just  after  Garret  arrived,"  she  added 
demurely. 

Virginia  raised  her  eyes  at  the  complacent  inference ; 
but  even  curiosity  seemed  to  have  died  out  in  her,  and 
she  only  said,  languidly : 

"  You  think  she  cares  for  Garret?  And  you  ap 
prove?  " 

"  I  think  I'd  approve  if  she  did.  Does  that  astonish 
you?" 

"  Not  very  much." 

Virginia  seemed  to  have  lost  all  spirit.  She  laughed 
rarely,  nowadays.  She  was  paler,  too,  than  usual — 
paler  than  was  ornamental ;  and  pallor  suited  her  rather 
fragile  features,  too.  Also  she  had  become  curiously 
considerate  of  other  people's  feelings — rather  subdued ; 
less  ready  in  her  criticisms;  gentler  in  judgments.  All 
of  which  symptoms  Constance  had  already  noted  with 
incredulity  and  alarm. 

"  Where  did  you  and  Louis  Malcourt  go  this  after 
noon?  "  she  asked,  unpegging  her  hair. 

"  Out  to  the  beach.  There  was  nothing  there  ex 
cept  sky  and  water,  and  a  filthy  eagle  dining  on  a 
dead  fish." 

Miss  Palliser  waited,  sitting  before  her  dresser;  but 
as  Virginia  offered  no  further  information  she  shook  out 
the  splendid  masses  of  her  chestnut  hair  and,  leaning 

241 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


forward,  examined  her  features  in  the  mirror  with  mi 
nute  attention. 

"  It's  strange,"  she  murmured,  half  to  herself,  "  how 
ill  Jim  Wayward  has  been  looking  recently.  I  can't 
account  for  it." 

"  I  can,  dear,"  said  Virginia  gently. 

Constance  turned  in  surprise. 

"  How?  " 

"  Mr.  Malcourt  says'  that  he  is  practising  self- 
denial.  It  hurts,  you  know." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Constance,  flushing  up. 

"  I  said  that  it  hurts." 

"  Such  a  slur  as  that  harms  Louis  Malcourt — not 
Mr.  Wayward !  "  returned  Constance  hotly. 

Virginia  repeated :  "It  hurts — to  kill  desire.  It 
hurts  even  before  habit  is  acquired  .  .  .  they  say. 
Louis  Malcourt  says  so.  And  if  that  is  true — can  you 
wonder  that  poor  Mr.  Wayward  looks  like  death?  I 
speak  in  all  sympathy  and  kindness — as  did  Mr.  Mal 
court." 

So  that  was  it!  Constance  stared  at  her  own  fair 
face  in  the  mirror,  and  deep  into  the  pained  brown  eyes 
reflected  there.  The  eyes  suddenly  dimmed  and  the 
parted  mouth  quivered. 

So  that  was  the  dreadful  trouble! — the  explanation 
of  the  recent  change  in  him — the  deep  lines  of  pain  from 
the  wing  of  the  pinched  nostril — the  haunted  gaze,  the 
long,  restless  silences,  the  forced  humour  and  its  bitter 
flavour  tainting  voice  and  word ! 

And  she  had  believed — feared  with  a  certainty  almost 
hopeless — that  it  was  his  old  vice,  slowly,  inexorably 
transforming  what  was  left  of  the  man  she  had  known 
so  long  and  cared  for  so  loyally  through  all  these 
strange,  confusing  years. 


STRATEGY __ 

From  the  mirror  the  oval  of  her  own  fresh  unravaged 
face,  framed  in  the  burnished  brown  of  her  hair,  con 
fronted  her  like  a  wraith  of  the  past;  and,  dreaming 
there,  wide-eyed,  expressionless,  she  seemed  to  see  again 
the  old-time  parlour  set  with  rosewood;  and  the  faded 
roses  in  the  carpet;  and,  through  the  half-drawn 
curtains,  spring  sunlight  falling  on  a  boy  and  a  little 
girl. 

Virginia,  partly  dressed  for  dinner,  rose  and  went 
to  the  window,  frail  restless  hands  clasped  behind  her 
back,  and  stood  there  gazing  out  at  the  fading  day 
light.  Perhaps  the  close  of  day  made  her  melancholy ; 
for  there  were  traces  of  tears  on  her  lashes ;  perhaps  it 
suggested  the  approaching  end  of  a  dream  so  bright 
and  strange  that,  at  times,  a  dull  pang  of  dread  stilled 
her  heart — checking  for  a  moment  its  heavy  beating. 

Light  died  in  the  room;  the  panes  turned  silvery, 
then  darker  as  the  swift  Southern  night  fell  over  sea, 
lagoon,  and  forest. 

Far  away  in  the  wastes  of  dune  and  jungle  the  sweet 
flute-like  tremolo  of  an  owl  broke  out,  prolonged  infi 
nitely.  From  the  dark  garden  below,  a  widow-bird 
called  breathlessly,  its  ghostly  cry,  now  a  far  whisper 
in  the  night,  now  close  at  hand,  husky,  hurried,  start 
ling  amid  the  shadows.  And,  whir !  whir-r-r !  thud ! 
came  the  great  soft  night-moths  against  the  window 
screens  where  sprays  of  silvery  jasmine  clung,  perfum 
ing  all  the  night. 

Still  Constance  sat  before  the  mirror  which  was  now 
invisible  in  the  dusk,  bare  elbows  on  the  dresser's  edge, 
face  framed  in  her  hands  over  which  the  thick  hair  rip 
pled.  And,  in  the  darkness,  her  brown  eyes  closed — per 
haps  that  they  might  behold  more  clearly  the  phantoms 
of  the  past  together  there  in  an  old-time  parlour,  where 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


the  golden  radiance  of  suns  long   dead  still  lingered, 
warming  the  faded  roses  on  the  floor. 

And  after  a  long  while  her  maid  came  with  a  card ; 
and  she  straightened  up  in  her  chair,  gathered  the  filmy 
robe  of  lace,  and,  rising,  pressed  the  electric  switch.  But 
Virginia  had  returned  to  her  own  room  to  bathe  her 
eyelids  and  pace  the  floor  until  she  cared  to  face  the 
outer  world  once  more  and,  for  another  hour  or  two, 
deceive  it. 


CHAPTER    XV 

UNDER    FIRE 

MEANWHILE  Constance  dressed  hastily,  abetted  by 
the  clever  maid ;  for  Wayward  was  below,  invited  to  dine 
with  them.  Malcourt  also  was  due  for  dinner,  and,  as 
usual,  late. 

In  fact,  he  was  at  that  moment  leisurely  tying  his 
white  neckwear  in  his  bed-chamber  at  Villa  Cardross. 
And  sometimes  he  whistled,  tentatively,  as  though  ab 
sorbed  in  mentally  following  an  elusive  air;  sometimes 
he  resumed  a  lighted  cigarette  which  lay  across  the  gilded 
stomach  of  a  Chinese  joss,  sending  a  thin,  high  thread 
of  smoke  to  the  ceiling.  He  had  begun  his  collection 
with  one  small  idol;  there  were  now  nineteen,  and  all 
hideous. 

"  The  deuce !  the  deuce !  "  he  murmured,  rejecting  the 
tie  and  trying  another  one ;  "  and  all  the  things  I've  got 
to  do  this  blessed  night!  .  .  .  Console  the  afflicted — 
three  of  them ;  dine  with  one,  get  to  "  The  Breakers  " 
and  spoon  with  another — get  to  the  Club  and  sup  with 
another! — the  deuce!  the  deuce!  the " 

He  hummed  a  bar  or  two  of  a  new  waltz,  took  a  puff 
at  his  cigarette,  winked  affably  at  the  idol,  put  on  his 
coat,  and  without  a  second  glance  at  the  glass  went  out 
whistling  a  lively  tune. 

Hamil,  dressed  for  dinner,  but  looking  rather  worn 
and  fatigued,  passed  him  in  the  hall. 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  You've  evidently  had  a  hard  day,"  said  Malcourt ; 
"  you  resemble  the  last  run  of  sea-weed.  Is  everybody 
dining  at  this  hour?  " 

"  I  dined  early  with  Mrs.  Cardross.  Mrs.  Carrick 
has  taken  Shiela  and  Cecile  to  that  dinner  dance  at  the 
O'Haras'.  It's  the  last  of  the  season.  I  thought  you 
might  be  going  later." 

"Are  you?" 

"No;  I'm  rather  tired?' 

"  I'm  tired,  too.  Hang  it !  I'm  always  tired — but 
only  of  Bibi.  Quand  meme!  Good  night.  .  .  .  I'll 
probably  reappear  with  the  dicky-birds.  Leave  your 
key  under  that  yellow  rose-bush,  will  you?  I  can't  stop 
to  hunt  up  mine.  And  tell  them  not  to  bar  and  chain 
the  door;  that's  a  good  fellow." 

Hamil  nodded  and  resumed  his  journey  to  his  bed 
room.  There  he  transferred  a  disorderly  heap  of  letters, 
plans,  contracts,  and  blue-prints  from  his  bed  to  a  table, 
threw  a  travelling  rug  over  the  bed,  lay  down  on  it, 
and  lighted  a  cigar,  closing  his  eyes  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  opened  them  wearily. 

He  did  not  intend  to  sleep;  there  was  work  waiting 
for  him ;  that  was  why  he  left  the  electric  bulbs  burning 
as  safeguard  against  slumber. 

For  a  while  he  smoked,  fiat  on  his  back;  his  cigar 
went  out  twice  and  he  relighted  it.  The  third  time  he 
was  deciding  whether  or  not  to  set  fire  to  it  again — 
he  remembered  that — and  remembered  nothing  more,  ex 
cept  the  haunted  dreams  in  which  he  followed  her, 
through  sad  and  endless  forests,  gray  in  deepening  twi 
light,  where  he  could  neither  see  her  face  nor  reach  her 
side,  nor  utter  the  cry  which  strained  in  his  throat.  .  .  . 
On,  on,  endlessly  struggling  onward  in  the  thickening 
darkness,  year  after  year,  the  sky  a  lowering  horror, 


UNDER   FIRE 


the  forest,  no  longer  silent,  a  twisting,  stupefying  con 
fusion  of  sound,  growing,  increasing,  breaking  into  a 
hellish  clamour! — 

Upright  on  his  bed  he  realised  that  somebody  was 
knocking;  and  he  slid  to  the  floor,  still  stupid  and 
scarcely  convinced. 

"  Mrs.  Carrick's  compliments,  and  is  Mr.  Hamil 
quite  well  bein'  as  the  lights  is  burnin'  an'  past  two 
o'clock,  sir?  "  said  the  maid  at  the  door. 

"  Past  two !  O  Lord !  Please  thank  Mrs.  Carrick, 
and  say  that  I  am  going  to  do  a  little  work,  and  that 
I  am  perfectly  well." 

He  closed  the  door  and  looked  around  him  in  de 
spair:  "  All  that  stuff  to  verify  and  O.  K. !  What  an 
infernal  ass  I  am!  By  the  nineteen  little  josses  in  Mai- 
court's  bedroom  I'm  so  many  kinds  of  a  fool  that  I  hate 
to  count  up  beyond  the  dozen !  " 

Stretching  and  yawning  alternately  he  eyed  the  mass 
of  papers  with  increasing  repugnance;  but  later  a  cold 
sponge  across  his  eyes  revived  him  sufficiently  to  sit 
down  and  inspect  the  first  document.  Then  he  opened 
the  ink-well,  picked  up  a  pen,  and  began. 

For  half  an  hour  he  sat  there,  now  refreshed  and 
keenly  absorbed  in  his  work.  Once  the  stairs  outside 
creaked,  and  he  raised  his  head,  listening  absently,  then 
returned  to  the  task  before  him  with  a  sigh. 

All  his  windows  were  open ;  the  warm  night  air  was 
saturated  with  the  odour  of  Bermuda  lilies.  Once  or 
twice  he  laid  down  his  pen  and  stared  out  into  the 
darkness  as  a  subtler  perfume  grew  on  the  breeze — 
the  far  fragrance  of  china-berry  in  bloom;  Calypso's 
breath ! 

Then,  in  the  silence,  the  heavy  throb  of  his  heart 
unnerved  his  hand,  rendering  his  pen  unsteady  as  he 
17  247 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


signed   each   rendered   bill :   "  O.    K.    for   $ ,"    and 

affixed  his  signature,  "  John  Garret  Hamil,  Architect." 

The  aroma  of  the  lilies  hung  heavy  in  the  room,  pene 
trating  as  the  scent  of  Malcourt's  spiced  Chinese  gums 
afire  and  bubbling.  And  he  thought  again  of  Malcourt's 
nineteen  little  josses  which  he  lugged  about  with  him 
everywhere  from  some  occult  whim,  and  in  whose  gilt- 
bronze  laps  he  sometimes  burned  cigarettes,  sometimes  a 
tiny  globule  of  aromatic  gum,  pretending  it  propitiated 
the  malice-brooding  gods. 

And,  thinking  of  Malcourt,  suddenly  he  remembered 
the  door-key.  Malcourt  could  not  get  in  without  it. 
And  the  doors  were  barred  and  chained. 

Slipping  the  key  into  his  pocket  he  opened  his  door, 
and,  treading  quietly  through  the  silent  house,  descended 
to  the  great  hall.  With  infinite  precaution  he  fumbled 
for  the  chains ;  the}7  were  dangling  loose.  Somebody, 
too,  had  drawn  the  heavy  bars,  but  the  door  itself  was 
locked. 

So  he  cautiously  unlocked  it,  and  holding  the  key 
in  his  hand,  let  himself  out  on  the  terrace. 

And  at  the  same  moment  a  shadowy  figure  turned 
in  the  starlight  to  confront  him. 

"Shiela!" 

"  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Hamil?" 

"  Yes.     What  on  earth  are  you " 

"Hush!     What  are  you  doing  down  here?" 

"  Louis  Malcourt  is  out.  I  forgot  to  leave  a  key  for 
him  under  the  yellow  rose 

"  Under  the  rose — and  yellow  at  that !  The  mysteries 
of  the  Rosicrucians  pale  into  insignificance  beside  the 
lurid  rites  of  Mr.  Malcourt  and  Mr.  Hamil — under  the 
yellow  rose !  Proceed,  my  fearsome  adept,  and  perform 
the  occult  deed !  " 

248 


UNDER   FIRE 


Hamil  descended  the  terrace  to  the  new  garden,  hung 
the  key  to  a  brier  under  the  fragrant  mass  of  flowers, 
and  glanced  up  at  Shiela,  who,  arms  on  the  balustrade 
above  him,  was  looking  down  at  the  proceedings. 

"  Is  the  dread  deed  done?  "  she  whispered. 

"  If  you  don't  believe  it  come  down  and  see." 

"I?     Come  down?    At  two  in  the  morning?" 

"  It's  half -past  two." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  if  it's  half-past  two  I  might  think 
of  coming  down  for  a  moment — to  look  at  my  roses.  .  .  . 
Thank  you,  Mr.  Hamil,  I  can  see  my  way  very  clearly. 
I  can  usually  see  my  own  way  clearly — without  the  aid 
of  your  too  readily  offered  hand.  .  .  .  Did  you  ever 
dream  of  such  an  exquisitely  hot  night !  That  means 
rain,  doesn't  it? — with  so  many  fragrances  mingling? 
The  odour  of  lilies  predominates,  and  I  think  some  jas 
mine  is  in  the  inland  wind,  but  my  roses  are  very  sweet 
if  you  only  bend  down  to  them.  A  rose  is  always  worth 
stooping  for." 

She  leaned  over  the  yellow  blossoms,  slender,  spirit- 
white  in  the  starlight,  and  brushed  her  fresh  young  face 
with  the  silken  petals. 

"  So  sweet,"  she  said ;  "  lean  down  and  worship  my 
young  roses,  you  unappreciative  man !  " 

For  a  few  minutes  she  strolled  along  the  paths  of 
the  new  garden  he  had  built,  bending  capriciously  here 
and  there  to  savour  some  perfect  blossom.  The  night 
was  growing  warmer;  the  sea  breeze  had  died  out,  and 
a  hot  wind  blew  languidly  from  the  west. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  looking  back  at  him  over  her 
shoulder,  "  I  don't  want  to  go  to  bed." 

"  Neither  do  I,  and  I'm  not  going." 

"  But  I'm  going.  ...  I  wonder  why  I  don't  want 
to?  Listen!  Once — after  I  was  a  protoplasm  and  a 

249 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


micro-organism,  and  a  mollusc,  and  other  things,  I  prob 
ably  was  a  predatory  animal — nice  and  sleek  with  velvet 
feet  and  shining  incandescent  eyes — and  very,  very 
predatory.  .  .  .  That's  doubtless  why  I  often  feel  so 
deliciously  awake  at  night — with  a  tameless  longing  to 
prowl  under  the  moon.  .  .  .  And  I  think  I'd  better  go 
in,  now." 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said,  "  I'm  not  going  to  bed  yet.'* 
"  Oh!    And  what  difference  might  that  make  to  me? 
You  are  horridly  conceited;  do  you  know  it?" 
"  Please  stay,  Calypso.     It's  too  hot  to  sleep." 
**  No ;  star-prowling  is  contrary  to  civilized  custom." 

"  But  every  soul  in  the  house  is  sound  asleep " 

"  I  should  hope  so !  And  you  and  I  have  no  business 
to  be  out  here." 

"  Do  little  observances  of  that  sort  count  with  you 
and  me? " 

"  They  don't,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head,  "  but  they 
ought  to.  I  want  to  stay.  There  is  no  real  reason  why 
I  shouldn't — except  the  absurd  fear  of  being  caught 
unawares.  Perhaps,  perhaps  I  might  stay  for  ten  more 
minutes.  .  .  .  Oh,  the  divine  beauty  of  it  all !  How  hot 
It  is  ! — the  splash  of  the  fountains  seems  to  cool  things  a 
little — and  those  jagged,  silvery  reflections  of  the  stars, 
deep,  deep  in  the  pool  there.  .  .  .  Did  you  see  that  fish 
ewirl  to  the  surface?  Hark!  What  was  that  queer 
Bound  ?  " 

"  Some  night  bird  crying  in  the  marshes.  It  will 
rain  to-morrow ;  the  wind  is  blowing  from  the  hammock ; 
that's  why  it's  hot  to-night;  can  you  detect  the  odour 
of  wild  sweet-bay  ?  "  '  . 

"  Yes — at  moments.  And  I  can  just  hear  the  surf — 
calling,  calling  *  Calypso ! '  as  you  called  me  once.  .  .  , 
I  must  go,  now." 

250 


UNDER   FIRE 


"  To  the  sea  or  the  house  ?  "  he  asked,  laughing. 

She  walked  a  few  paces  toward  the  house,  halted* 
and  looked  back  audaciously. 

"  I'd  go  to  the  sea — only  I'm  afraid  I'd  be  found  out 
.  .  .  Isn't  it  all  too  stupid !  Where  convention  is  need 
less  and  one's  wish  is  so  harmless  why  should  a  girl 
turn  coward  at  the  fear  of  somebody  discovering  how 
innocently  happy  she  is  trying  to  be  with  a  man !  .  .  . 
It  makes  me  very  impatient  at  times."  .  .  .  She  turned, 
hesitated,  stepped  nearer  and  looked  him  in  the  face, 
daringly  perverse. 

"  I  want  to  go  with  you !  .  .  .  Have  we  not  passed 
through  enough  together  to  deserve  this  little  unconven 
tional  happiness?"  She  was  breathing  more  quickly. 
"  I  will  go  with  you  if  you  wish." 

"To  the  sea?" 

"  Yes.  It  is  only  a  half  mile  by  the  hammock  path. 
The  servants  are  awake  at  six.  Really,  the  night  ia 
too  superb  to  waste — alone.  But  we  must  get  back 
in  time,  if  I  go  with  you." 

"  Have  you  a  key?  " 

"  Yes,  here  in  my  gloves  " — stripping  them  from 
her  bare  arms.  "  Can  you  put  them  into  your  pocket 
with  the  key?  .  .  .  And  I'll  pin  up  my  skirt  to  get 
it  out  of  the  way.  .  .  .  What?  Do  you  think  it's  a 
pretty  gown?  I  did  not  think  you  noticed  it.  I've 
danced  it  to  rags.  .  .  .  And  will  you  take  this  fan, 
please?  No,  I'll  wear  t|ie  wrap — it's  only  cobweb 
weight." 

She  had  now  pinned  up  her  gown  to  walking- 
skirt  length;  her  slim  feet  were  sheathed  in  silken 
dancing  gear;  and  she  bent  over  to  survey  them, 
then  glanced  doubtfully  at  Hamil,  who  shook  hi* 
head. 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Never  mind,"  she  said  resolutely ;  "  only  we  can't 
walk  far  on  the  beach;  I  could  never  keep  them  on  in 
the  dune  sands.  Are  you  ready,  O  my  tempter?  " 

Like  a  pair  of  guilty  ghosts  they  crossed  the  shad 
owy  garden,  skirted  the  dark  orange  groves,  and  instead 
of  entering  the  broad  palm-lined  way  that  led  straight 
east  for  two  miles  to  the  sea,  they  turned  into  the  sinu 
ous  hammock  path  which,  curving  south,  cut  off  nearly 
a  mile  and  a  half. 

"  It's  rather  dark,"  she  said. 

They  walked  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence;  and,  at 
first,  she  could  not  understand  why  he  insisted  on  leading, 
because  the  path  was  wide  enough  for  both. 

"  I  will  not  proceed  in  this  absurd  manner,"  she  said 
at  last — "  like  an  Indian  and  his  faithful  squaw.  Why 
on  earth  do  you 

And  it  flashed  across  her  at  the  same  instant. 

"  Is  that  why  ?  " — imperiously  abrupt. 

"What?"  he  asked,  halting. 

She  passed  her  arm  through  his,  not  gently,  but 
her  laughing  voice  was  very  friendly: 

"  If  we  jump  a  snake  in  the  dark,  my  friend,  we 
jump  him  together  I  It's  like  you,  but  your  friend 
6hiela  won't  permit  it." 

"  Oh,  it's  only  a  conventional  precaution — ' 

"Yes?  Well,  we'll  take  chances  together.  .  .  .  Sup 
pose — by  the  wildest  and  weirdest  stretch  of  a  highly 
coloured  imagination  you  jumped  a  rattler?" 

"  Nonsense " 

"Suppose  you  did?" 

He  said,  sobered:  "It  would  be  horribly  awkward 
for  you  to  explain.  I  forgot  about " 

"  Do  you  think  I  meant  that !  Do  you  think  I'd 
care  what  people  might  say  about  our  being  here  to- 


UNDER   FIRE 


gether?     I — I'd  want  them  to  know  it!     What  would 
I  care — about — anything — then !  " 

Through  the  scorn  in  her  voice  he  detected  the 
awakened  emotion;  and,  responsive,  his  pulse  quickened, 
beating  hard  and  heavy  in  throat  and  breast. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten,"  he  said,  "  that  we  might 
dare  look  at  things  that  way.  ...  It  all  has  been  so — 
hopeless — lately " 

"What?  .  .  .  Yes,  I  understand." 

"  Do  you  ? — my  trying  to  let  you  alone — trying  to 
think  differently — to  ignore  all  that  has  been  said?  " 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  This  is  no  time  to  bring  up  such  things." 
Her  uneven  breathing  was  perceptible  to  him  as  she 
moved  by  his  side  through  the  darkness,  her  arm  resting 
on  his. 

No,  this  was  no  time  to  bring  up  such  things.  They 
knew  it.  And  she,  who  in  the  confidence  of  her  youth 
had  dared  to  trust  her  unknown  self,  listened  now  to  the 
startled  beating  of  her  heart  at  the  first  hint  of  peril. 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  come,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  ask  her  why. 

"  You  are  very  silent — you  have  been  so  for  days," 
she  added;  then,  too  late,  knew  that  once  more  her 
tongue  had  betrayed  her.  "  Don't  answer  me,"  she  whis 
pered. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  what  I  say  is  folly.  .  .  .  I — I  must  ask 
you  to  release  my  hands.  .  .  .  You  know  it  is  only 
because  I  think  it  safer  for — us;  don't  you?  " 

"  What  threatens  you,  Calypso  ?  " 

66  Nothing.  ...  I  told  you  once  that  I  am  afraid — 
even  in  daylight.  Ask  yourself  what  I  fear  here  under 
the  stars  with  you." 

"  You  fear  me?  " — managing  to  laugh. 
253 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


"  No ;  I  dread  your  ally — my  unknown  self — in  arms 
eternally  to  fight  for  you,"  she  answered  with  forced 
gaiety.  "  Shall  we  kill  her  to-night?  She  deserves  no 
consideration  at  our  hands." 

«  Dear » 

"  Hush !  That  is  not  the  countersign  on  the  firing 
line.  Besides  it  is  treachery,  because  to  say  that  word 
is  aiding,  abetting,  and  giving  information  and  com 
fort  to  our  enemies.  Our  enemies,  remember,  are  our 
other  and  stealthy  selves."  Her  voice  broke  unsteadily. 
"  I  am  trying  so  hard,"  she  breathed,  "  but  I  cannot 
think  clearly  unless  you  help  me.  There  is  mutiny 
threatening  somewhere." 

"  I  have  tried,  too,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  you  have.  Do  you  suppose  I  have  been  un 
touched  by  your  consideration  for  me  all  these  long  days 
— your  quiet  cheerfulness — your  dear  unselfishness — the 
forbidden  word! — but  what  synonym  am  I  to  use?  .  .  . 
Oh,  I  know,  I  know  what  you  are  doing,  thinking, 
feeling — believe  me — believe  me,  I  know!  And — it  is 
what  you  must  do,  of  course.  But — if  you  only  did 
not  show  it  so  plainly — the  effort — the  strain— the 
hurt " 

"  Do  I  show  it  ?  "  he  asked,  chagrined.  "  I  did  not 
know  that." 

"  Only  to  me — because  I  know.  And  I  remember 
how  young  you  were — that  first  day.  Your  whole  expres 
sion  has  changed.  .  .  .  And  I  know  why.  ...  At  times 
it  scarcely  seems  that  I  can  bear  it — when  I  see  your 
mouth  laughing  at  the  world  and  your  eyes  without 
mirth — dead — and  the  youth  in  you  so  altered,  so 
quenched,  so — forgive  me ! — so  useless " 

"  To  what  better  use  could  I  devote  it,  Shiela?  " 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know ! — you  don't  know ! — You  arc 
254 


UNDER   FIRE 


free;  there  are  other  women,  other  hopes — try  to  un 
derstand  what  freedom  means !  " 

"  It  means — you,  Shiela." 

She  fell  silent;  then: 

"  Wherever  I  turn,  whatever  I  say — all  paths  and 
words  lead  back  again  to  you  and  me.  I  should  not 
have  come." 

The  hard,  hammering  pulse  in  his  throat  made  it 
difficult  for  him  to  speak;  but  he  managed  to  force  an 
unsteady  laugh ;  "  Shiela,  there  is  only  one  way  for  me, 
now — to  fire  and  fall  back.  I've  got  to  go  up  to  Port- 
law's  camp  anyhow " 

"And  after  that?" 

"  Mrs.  Ascott  wants  a  miniature  Versailles.  I'll 
show  you  the  rough  sketches " 

"  And  after  that?  " 

"  I've  one  or  two  promises " 

"  And  afterward?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  You  will  never — see  me — again.  Is  that  what 
*  nothing  '  means  ?  " 

They  walked  on  in  silence.  The  path  had  now  be 
come  palely  illumined;  the  sound  of  the  surf  was  very 
near.  Another  step  or  two  and  they  stood  on  the 
forest's  edge. 

A  spectral  ocean  stretched  away  under  the  stars; 
ghostly  rollers  thundered  along  the  sands.  North 
and  south  dunes  glimmered;  and  the  hot  fragrance 
of  sweet-bay  mingled  with  the  mounting  savour  of  the 
sea. 

She  looked  at  the  sea,  the  stars,  blindly,  lips  apart, 
teeth  closed,  her  arm  still  resting  on  his. 

"  Nothing,"  she  repeated  under  her  breath ;  "  that 
was  the  best  answer.  .  .  .  Don't  touch  my  hand !  .  .  . 

255 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


I  was  mad  to  come  here.  .  .  .  How  close  and  hot  it  is ! 
What  is  that  new  odour — so  fresh  and  sweet " 

"  China-berry  in  bloom " 

"  Is  it?  " 

"  I'm  not  sure ;  once  I  thought  it  was — you ;  the 
fragrance  of  your  hair  and  breath — Calypso." 

"  When  did  you  think  that?  " 

"  Our  first  night  together." 

She  said :  "  I  think  this  is  our  last." 

He  stood  for  a  while,  motionless;  slowly  raised  his 
head  and  looked  straight  into  her  eyes ;  took  her  in  his 
arms;  holding  her  loosely. 

White  of  cheek  and  lip,  rigid,  her  eyes  met  his  in 
breathless  suspense.  Fear  widened  them;  her  hands 
tightened  on  his  wrists  behind  her. 

"Will  you  love  me?" 

"No!"  she  gasped. 

"  Is  there  no  chance  ?  " 

"No!" 

Her  heart  was  running  riot;  every  pulse  in  re 
bellion.  A  cloud  possessed  her  senses,  through  which 
her  eyes  fought  desperately  for  sight. 

"  Give  me  a  memory — to  carry  through  the  years," 
he  said  unsteadily. 

"  No." 

"Not  one?" 

"  No ! " 

"To  help  us  endure?" 

Suddenly  she  turned  in  his  arms,  covering  her  eyes 
with  both  hands. 

"  Take — what — you  wish — "  she  panted. 

He  touched  one  slim  rigid  finger  after  another, 
but  they  clung  fast  to  the  pallid  face.  Time  and 
space  reeled  through  silence.  Then  slowly,  lids  still 

256 


UNDER   FIRE 


sealed  with  desperate  white  hands,  her  head  sank 
backward. 

Untaught,  her  lips  yielded  coldly ;  but  the  body, 
stunned,  swayed  toward  him  as  he  released  her;  and, 
his  arm  supporting  her,  they  turned  blindly  toward  the 
path.  Without  power,  without  will,  passive,  dependent 
on  his  strength,  her  trembling  knees  almost  failed  her. 
She  seemed  unconscious  of  his  lips  on  her  cheek,  on  her 
hair — of  her  cold  hands  crushed  in  his,  of  the  words 
he  uttered — senseless,  broken  phrases,  questions  to  which 
her  silence  answered  and  her  closed  lids  acquiesced.  If 
love  was  what  he  was  asking  for,  why  did  he  ask?  He 
had  his  will  of  her  lips,  her  hair,  her  slim  fragrant 
hands ;  and  now  of  her  tears — for  the  lashes  were  wet 
and  the  mouth  trembled.  Her  mind  was  slowly  awaking 
to  pain. 

With  it,  far  within  her  in  unknown  depths,  some 
thing  else  stirred,  stilling  her  swelling  heart.  Then 
every  vein  in  her  grew  warm ;  and  the  quick  tears  sprang 
to  her  eyes. 

"  Dearest — dearest — "  he  whispered.  Through  the 
dim  star-pallor  she  turned  toward  him,  halted,  pass 
ing  her  finger-tips  across  her  lashes. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  "  it  was  too  late.  If  there 
is  any  sin  in  loving  you  it  happened  long  ago — not  to 
night.  ...  It  began  from  the — the  beginning.  Does 
the  touch  of  your  lips  make  me  any  worse?  .  .  .  But 
I  am  not  afraid — if  you  wish  it — now  that  I  know  I 
always  loved  you." 

"  Shiela!     Shiela,  little  sweetheart " 

"  I  love  you  so — I  love  you  so,"  she  said.  "  I  can 
not  help  it  any  more  than  I  could  in  dreams — any  more 
than  I  could  when  we  met  in  the  sea  and  the  fog.  .  .  . 
Should  I  lie  to  myself  and  you?  I  know  I  can  never 

257 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


have  you  for  mine;  I  know — I  know.  But  if  you  will 
be  near  me  when  you  can — if  you  will  only  be  near — • 
sometimes " 

She  pressed  both  his  hands  close  between  hers. 

"  Dear — can  you  give  up  your  freedom  for  a  girl 
you  cannot  have?  " 

"  I  did  so  long  since." 

She  bent  and  laid  her  lips  on  his  hands,  gravely. 

"  I  must  say  something — that  disturbs  me  a  little. 
May  I?  Then,  there  are  perils — warnings — veiled 
hints.  .  .  .  They  mean  nothing  definite  to  me.  .  .  . 
Should  I  be  wiser?  ...  It  is  difficult  to  say — senseless 
— showing  my  ignorance,  but  I  thought  if  there  were 
perils  that  I  should  know  about — that  could  possibly 
concern  me,  now,  you  would  tell  me,  somehow — in 
time » 

For  a  moment  the  revelation  of  her  faith  and  in 
nocence — the  disclosure  of  how  strange  and  lost  she  felt 
in  the  overwhelming  catastrophe  of  forbidden  love — 
how  ignorant,  how  alone,  left  him  without  a  word  to 
utter. 

She  said,  still  looking  down  at  his  hands  held  be 
tween  her  own: 

"  A  girl  who  has  done  what  I  have  done,  loses  her 
bearings.  ...  I  don't  know  yet  how  desperately  bad 
I  am.  However,  one  thing  remains  clear — only  one — 
that  no  harm  could  come  to — my  family — even  if  I  have 
given  myself  to  you.  And  when  I  did  it,  only  the 
cowardly  idea  that  I  was  wronging  myself  persisted.  If 
that  is  my  only  sin — you  are  worth  it.  And  if  I  com 
mitted  worse — I  am  not  repentant.  But — dear,  what 
you  have  done  to  me  has  so  utterly  changed  me  that — 
things  that  I  never  before  heeded  or  comprehended 
trouble  me.  Yesterday  I  could  not  have  understood 

258 


UNDER   FIRE 


what  to-night  I  have  done.  So,  if  there  lies  any  un 
known  peril  in  to-morrow,  or  the  days  to  come — if  you 
love  me  you  will  tell  me.  .  .  .  Yet  I  cannot  believe  in 
it.  Dearly  as  I  love  you  I  would  not  raise  one  finger 
to  comfort  you  at  their  expense.  I  would  not  go  away 
with  you ;  I  would  not  seek  my  freedom  for  your  sake. 
If  there  is  in  my  love  anything  base  or  selfish  I  am  not 
conscious  of  it.  I  cannot  marry  you;  I  can  only  live 
on,  loving  you.  What  danger  can  there  be  in  that  for 
you  and  me  ?  " 

"  None,"  he  said. 

She  sighed  happily,  lifted  her  eyes,  yielded  to  his 
arms,  sighing  her  heart  out,  lips  against  his. 

Somewhere  in  the  forest  a  bird  awoke  singing;  like 
a  soul  in  Paradise. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

AN    ULTIMATUM 

WITH  the  beginning  of  March  the  end  of  the  so- 
called  social  season,  south  of  Jupiter  Light,  is  close  at 
hand.  First,  the  great  winter  hotels  close ;  then,  one  by 
one,  doors  and  gates  of  villa  and  cottage  are  locked, 
bright  awnings  and  lawn  shades  furled  and  laid  away, 
blinds  bolted,  flags  lowered.  All  summer  long  villa  and 
caravansary  alike  stand  sealed  and  silent  amid  their 
gardens,  blazing  under  the  pale  fierce  splendour  of  an 
unclouded  sky;  tenantless,  save  where,  beside  opened 
doors  of  quarters,  black  recumbent  figures  sprawl  asleep, 
shiny  faces  fairly  sizzling  in  the  rays  of  a  vertical 
sun. 

The  row  of  shops  facing  the  gardens,  the  white 
streets,  quay,  pier,  wharf  are  deserted  and  silent. 
Rarely  a  human  being  passes ;  the  sands  are  abandoned 
except  by  some  stray  beach-comber ;  only  at  the  station 
remains  any  sign  of  life  where  trains  are  being  loaded 
for  the  North,  or  roll  in  across  the  long  draw-bridge, 
steaming  south  to  that  magic  port  from  which  the  white 
P.  and  O.  steamers  sail  away  into  regions  of  eternal 
sunshine. 

So  passes  Palm  Beach  into  its  long  summer  sleep; 
and  the  haunts  of  men  are  desolate.  But  it  is  other 
wise  with  the  Wild. 

Night  and  the  March  moon  awake  the  winter-dor- 
260 


AN   ULTIMATUM 


mant  wilderness  from  the  white  man's  deadening  spell. 
Now,  unrestrained,  the  sound  of  negro  singing  floats 
inland  on  the  sea-wind  from  inlet,  bar,  and  glassy-still 
lagoon;  great,  cumbersome,  shadowy  things  lumber 
down  to  tidewater — huge  turtles  on  egg-laying  intent. 
In  the  dune-hammock  the  black  bear,  crab-hungry, 
awakes  from  his  December  sleep  and  claws  the  palmetto 
fruit;  the  bay  lynx  steals  beachward;  a  dozen  little 
deaths  hatch  from  the  diamond-back,  alive;  and  the 
mean  gray  fox  uncurls  and  scratches  ticks,  grinning, 
red-gummed,  at  the  moon. 

Edging  the  Everglades,  flat-flanked  panthers 
prowl,  ears  and  tail-tips  twitching ;  doe  and  buck  listen 
from  the  cypress  shades;  the  razor-back  clatters  his 
tusks,  and  his  dull  and  furry  ears  stand  forward  and 
his  dull  eyes  redden.  Then  the  silver  mullet  leap  in 
the  moonlight,  and  the  tiger-owl  floats  soundlessly  to 
his  plunging  perch,  and  his  daring  yellow  glare  flashes 
even  when  an  otter  splashes  or  a  tiny  fawn  stirs. 

And  very,  very  far  away,  under  the  stars,  rolls  the 
dull  bull-bellow  of  the  'gator,  labouring,  lumbering, 
clawing  across  the  saw-grass  seas;  and  all  the  little 
striped  pigs  run,  bucking  madly,  to  their  dangerous 
and  silent  dam  who  listens,  rigid,  horny  nose  aquiver  in 
the  wind. 

So  wakes  the  Wild  when  the  white  men  turn  north 
ward  under  the  March  moon;  and,  as  though  released 
from  the  same  occult  restraint,  tree  and  shrub  break 
out  at  last  into  riotous  florescence:  swamp  maple  sets 
the  cypress  shade  afire ;  the  cassava  lights  its  orange  elf- 
lamps;  dogwood  snows  in  the  woods;  every  magnolia  is 
set  with  great  white  chalices  divinely  scented,  and  the 
Royal  Poinciana  crowns  itself  with  cardinal  magnifi 
cence. 

261 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


All  day  long  brilliant  butterflies  hover  on  great 
curved  wings  over  the  jungle  edge;  all  day  long  the 
cock-quail  whistles  from  wall  and  hedge,  and  the  crest- 
less  jays,  sapphire  winged,  flit  across  the  dunes.  Red- 
bellied  woodpeckers  gossip  in  live-oak,  sweet-gum,  and 
ancient  palm  ;  gray  squirrels  chatter  from  pine  to  bitter- 
nut;  the  iridescent  little  ground-doves,  mated  for  life, 
run  fearlessly  under  foot  or  leap  up  into  snapping 
flight  with  a  flash  of  saffron-tinted  wings.  Under  the 
mangroves  the  pink  ajajas  preen  and  wade;  and  the 
white  ibis  walks  the  woods  like  a  little  absent-minded 
ghost  buried  in  unearthly  reverie. 

Truly  when  madam  closes  her  Villa  Tillandsia,  and 
when  Coquina  Court  is  bereft  of  mistress  and  household 
— butler,  footman,  maid,  and  flunky ;  and  when  Tsa-na 
Lah-ni  is  abandoned  by  its  handsome  chatelaine,  and 
the  corridors  of  the  vast  hotels  are  dark,  it  is  fashion, 
not  common  sense  that  stirs  the  flock  of  gaily  gregarious 
immigrants  into  premature  northern  flight;  for  thej 
go,  alas!  just  as  the  southland  clothes  itself  in  beauty, 
and  are  already  gone  when  the  Poinciana  opens,  leaving 
Paradise  to  blossom  for  the  lesser  brothers  of  the  wood 
land  and  the  dark-skinned  children  of  the  sun. 

The  toddling  Moses  of  the  Exodus,  as  usual,  was 
Courtlandt  Classon;  the  ornamental  Miriam,  Mrs. 
O'Hara ;  and  the  children  of  the  preferred  stock  started 
North  with  cymbals  and  with  dances,  making  a  joyful 
noise,  and  camping  en  route  at  Ormond — vastly  more 
beautiful  than  the  fashion-infested  coral  reef  from  which 
they  started — at  Saint  Augustine,  on  corporate  com 
pulsion,  at  the  great  inns  of  Hampton,  Hot  Springs, 
and  Old  Point,  for  fashion's  sake — taking  their  falling 
temperature  by  degrees — as  though  any  tropic  could 


AN   ULTIMATUM 


compare  with  the  scorching  suffocation  of  Manhattan 
town. 

Before  the  Beach  Club  closed  certain  species  of  hu 
manity  left  in  a  body,  including  a  number  of  the 
unfledged,  and  one  or  two  pretty  opportunists.  Port- 
law  went,  also  Malcourt. 

It  required  impudence,  optimism,  and  executive 
ability  for  Malcourt  to  make  his  separate  adieux  and 
render  impartial  justice  on  each  occasion. 

There  was  a  girl  at  "  The  Breakers  "  who  was  rather 
apt  to  slop  over,  so  that  interview  was  timed  for  noon, 
when  the  sun  dries  up  everything  very  quickly,  includ 
ing  such  by-products  as  tears. 

Then  there  was  Miss  Suydam  to  ride  with  at  five 
o'clock  on  the  beach,  where  the  chain  of  destruction 
linked  mullet  and  osprey  and  ended  with  the  robber 
eagle — and  Malcourt — if  he  chose. 

But  here  there  were  no  tears  for  the  westering  sun 
to  dry,  only  strangely  quenched  eyes,  more  green  than 
blue,  for  Malcourt  to  study,  furtively ;  only  the  pale 
oval  of  a  face  to  examine,  curiously,  and  not  too  cyni 
cally  ;  and  a  mouth,  somewhat  colourless,  to  reassure 
without  conviction — also  without  self-conviction.  This 
was  all — except  a  pair  of  slim,  clinging  hands  to  re 
lease  when  the  time  came,  using  discretion — and  some 
amiable  firmness  if  required. 

They  were  discussing  the  passing  of  the  old  regime, 
for  lack  of  a  safer  theme ;  and  he  had  spoken  flippantly 
of  the  decadence  of  the  old  families — his  arm  around 
her  and  her  pale  cheek  against  his  shoulder. 

She   listened  rather  absently;   her  heart  was   very 

full  and  she  was  thinking  of  other  matters.     But  as  he 

continued    she    answered    at    length,    hesitating,    using 

phrases  as  trite  and  quaintly  stilted  as  the  theme  itself, 

18 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


gently  defending  the  old  names  he  sneered  at.  And 
in  her  words  he  savoured  a  certain  old-time  flavour  of 
primness  and  pride — a  vaguely  delicate  hint  of  resent 
ment,  which  it  amused  him  to  excite.  Pacing  the  dunes 
with  her  waist  enlaced,  he  said,  to  incite  retort : 

"  The  old  families  are  done  for.  Decadent  in  morals, 
in  physique,  mean  mentally  and  spiritually,  they  are 
even  worse  off  than  respectfully  cherished  ruins,  because 
they  are  out  of  fashion ;  they  and  their  dingy  dwellings. 
Our  house  is  on  the  market;  I'd  be  glad  to  see  it  sold 
only  Tressilvain  will  get  half." 

"  In  you,"  she  said,  "  there  seems  to  be  other  things, 
besides  reverence,  which  are  out  of  fashion." 

He  continued,  smilingly :  "  As  the  old  mansions  dis 
appear,  Virginia,  so  disintegrate  those  families  whose 
ancestors  gave  names  to  the  old  lanes  of  New  Amster 
dam.  I  reverence  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  Good 
riddance !  The  fit  alone  survive." 

"  I  still  survive,  if  you  please." 

"  Proving  the  rule,  dear.  But,  yourself  excepted, 
look  at  the  few  of  us  who  chance  to  be  here  in  the  South. 
Look  at  Courtlandt  Classon,  intellectually  destitute! 
Cuyp,  a  mental  brother  to  the  ox;  and  Vetchen  to  the 
ass;  and  Mrs.  Van  Dieman  to  somebody's  maidservant 
— that  old  harridan  with  all  the  patrician  distinction  of 
a  Dame  des  Halles -" 

"  Please,  Louis  !  " 

"  Dear,  I  am  right.  Even  Constance  Palliser,  still 
physically  superb,  but  mentally  morbid — in  love  with 
what  once  was  Wayward — with  the  ghost  she  raised 
in  her  dead  girlhood,  there  on  the  edge  of  yester 
day " 

"  Louis !  Louis !  And  you  \  What  were  you  yes 
terday?  What  are  you  to-day?  " 

264 


AN    ULTIMATUM 


"  What  do  I  care  what  I  was  and  am? — Dutch, 
British,  burgher,  or  cavalier? — What  the  deuce  do  I 
care,  my  dear?  The  Malcourts  are  rotten;  everybody 
knows  it.  Tressilvain  is  worse;  my  sister  says  so.  As 
I  told  you,  the  old  families  are  done  for — all  except 
yours " 

"  I  am  the  last  of  mine,  Louis." 

"  The  last  and  best " 

"  Are  you  laughing?  " 

"  No ;  you  are  the  only  human  one  I've  ever  heard 
of  among  your  race — the  sweetest,  soundest,  best " 

"I?  .  .  .  What  you  say  is  too  terrible  to  laugh  at. 
I — guilty  in  mind — unsound — contaminated " 

"  Temporarily.  I'm  going  to-night.  Time  and  ab 
sence  are  the  great  antiseptics.  When  the  corrupt 
cause  disappears  the  effect  follows.  Cheer  up,  dear;  I 
take  the  night  train." 

But  she  only  pressed  her  pale  face  closer  to  his 
shoulder.  Their  interlocked  shadows,  huge,  fantastic, 
streamed  across  the  eastern  dunes  as  they  moved  slowly 
on  together. 

"  Louis ! " 

"Yes?" 

She  could  not  say  it.  Close  to  the  breaking  point, 
she  was  ready  now  to  give  up  to  him  more  than  he 
might  care  for — the  only  shred  left  which  she  had 
shrunk  from  letting  him  think  was  within  his  reach  for 
the  asking — her  name. 

Pride,  prejudice,  had  died  out  in  the  fierce  out 
break  of  a  heart  amazingly  cut  of  place  in  the  body 
of  one  who  bore  her  name. 

Generations  of  her  kinsmen,  close  and  remote,  had 
lived  in  the  close  confines  of  narrow  circles — narrow, 
bloodless,  dull  folk,  almost  all  distantly  related — and 

265 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


they  had  lived  and  mated  among  themselves,  coldlj 
defiant  of  that  great  law  which  dooms  the  over-culti- 
Tated  and  inbred  to  folly  and  extinction. 

Somewhere,  far  back  along  the  race-line,  some  mon 
grel  ancestor  had  begun  life  with  a  heart;  and,  unsus 
pected,  that  obsolete  organ  had  now  reappeared  in  her, 
irritating,  confusing,  amazing,  and  finally  stupefying 
her  with  its  misunderstood  pulsations. 

At  first,  like  a  wounded  creature,  consciousness  of 
its  presence  turned  her  restless,  almost  vicious.  Then 
from  cynicism  to  incredulity  she  had  passed  the  bitter 
way  to  passion,  and  the  shamed  recoil  from  it;  to 
recklessness,  and  the  contempt  for  it,  and  so  through 
sorrow  and  humility  to  love — if  it  were  love  to  endure 
the  evil  in  this  man  and  to  believe  in  the  good  which 
he  had  never  yet  revealed  to  her  save  in  a  half-cynical, 
half-amused  content  that  matters  rest  in  statu  quo. 

"  The  trouble  with  us,"  mused  Malcourt,  lazilj 
switching  the  fragrant  beach-grapes  with  his  riding- 
crop,  "  is  inbreeding.  Yes,  that's  it.  And  we  know 
what  it  brings  to  kings  and  kine  alike.  Tressilvain  is 
half-mad,  I  think.  And  we  are  used  up  and  out  of 
date.  .  .  .  The  lusty,  jewelled  bacchantes  who  now 
haunt  the  inner  temple  kindle  the  social  flames  witk 
newer  names  than  ours.  Few  of  us  count ;  the  lumber 
ing  British  or  Dutch  cattle  our  race  was  bred  from, 
even  in  these  brief  generations,  have  become  decadent 
and  barren;  we  are  even  passing  from  a  fashion  which 
we  have  neither  intellect  to  sustain  nor  courage  to  dic 
tate  to.  It's  the  raw  West  that  is  to  be  our  Nemesis,  I 
think.  ...  *  Mix  corpuscles  or  you  die ! ' — that's  what 
I  read  as  I  run — I  mean,  saunter ;  the  Malcourts  never 
run,  except  to  seed.  My,  what  phosphorescent  perver 
sion!  One  might  almost  mistake  it  for  philosophy. 

266 


AN   ULTIMATUM 


.  .  .  But  it's  only  the  brilliancy  of  decay,  Virginia; 
and  it's  about  time  that  the  last  Malcourt  stepped 
down  and  out  of  the  scheme  of  things.  My  sister  is 
older,  but  I  don't  mind  going  first — even  if  it  is  bad 
manners." 

"  Is  that  why  you  have  never  asked  me  to  marry 
you  ?  "  she  said,  white  as  a  ghost. 

Startled  to  silence  he  walked  on  beside  her.  She 
had  pressed  her  pallid  face  against  his  shoulder  again; 
one  thin  hand  crushed  her  gloves  and  riding-crop  into 
her  hip,  the  other,  doubled,  left  in  the  palm  pale  im 
prints  of  her  fingers. 

"Is  that  the  reason?"  she  repeated. 

"  No,  dear." 

"  Is  it  because  you  do  not  care  for  me — enough?  " 

**  Partly.     But  that  is  easily  remedied." 

"  Or  " — with  bent  head — "  because  you  think  too 
— lightly — of  me " 

"  No !    That's  a  lie  anyway." 

"A— a  lie?" 

"  Yes.  You  lie  to  yourself  if  you  think  that !  YOH 
are  not  that  sort.  You  are  not,  and  you  never  were 
and  never  could  be.  Don't  you  suppose  I  know?  " 
— almost  with  a  sneer :  "  I  won't  have  it — nor  would 
you!  It  is  you,  not  I,  who  have  controlled  this  situ 
ation  ;  and  if  you  don't  realise  it  I  do.  I  never  doubted 
you  even  when  you  prattled  to  me  of  moderation.  / 
know  that  you  were  not  named  with  your  name  in 
mockery,  or  in  vain." 

Dumb,  thrilled,  understanding  in  a  blind  way  what 
this  man  had  said,  dismayed  to  find  safety  amid  the 
elements  of  destruction,  a  sudden  belief  in  herself — in 
him,  too,  began  to  flicker.  Had  the  still  small  flame 
been  relighted  for  her?  Had  it  never  entirely  died?  " 

mi 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


66  If — you  will  have  me,  Louis,"  she  whispered. 

"  I  don't  love  you.  I'm  rather  nearer  than  I  ever 
have  been  just  now.  But  I  am  not  in  love." 

"  Could  you  ever " 

"Yes."  " 

"  Then— why " 

"  I'll  tell  you  why,  some  day.     Not  now." 

They  had  come  to  where  their  horses  were  tied. 
He  put  her  up,  adjusted  boot-strap  and  skirt,  then 
swung  gracefully  aboard  his  own  pie-faced  Tallahassee 
nag,  wheeling  into  the  path  beside  her. 

"  The  world,"  observed  Malcourt,  using  his  fa 
vourite  quotation,  "  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  things — • 
like  you  and  me  and  that  coral  snake  yonder.  .  .  .  It's 
very  hard  to  make  a  coral  snake  bite  you;  but  it's 
death  if  you  succeed.  .  .  .  Whack  that  nag  if  he 
plunges!  Lord,  what  a  nose  for  sarpints  horses  have! 
Hamil  was  telling  me — by  the  way,  there's  nothing  de 
generate  about  our  distant  cousin,  John  Garret  Hamil ; 
but  he's  not  pure  pedigree.  However,  I'd  advise  him 
fto  marry  into  some  fresh,  new  strain " 

"  He  seems  likely  to,"  said  Virginia. 

After  a  moment  Malcourt  looked  around  at  her 
curiously. 

"  Do  you  mean  Shiela  Cardross  ?  " 

"  Obviously." 

"  You  think  it  safe  ?  " — mockingly. 

"  I  wouldn't  care  if  I  were  a  man." 

"  Oh !  I  didn't  suppose  that  a  Suydam  could  ap 
prove  of  her." 

"  I  do  now — with  envy.  .  .  .  You  are  right  about 
the  West.  Do  you  know  that  it  seems  to  me  as  though 
in  that  girl  all  sections  of  the  land  were  merged,  as 
though  the  freshest  blood  of  all  nations  flowing  through 

268 


AN    ULTIMATUM 


the  land  had  centred  and  mingled  to  produce  that 
type  of  physical  perfection !  It  is  a  curious  idea — isn't 
it,  Louis? — to  imagine  that  the  brightest,  wholesomest, 
freshest  blood  of  the  nations  within  this  nation  has 
combined  to  produce  such  a  type !  Suppose  it  were  so. 
After  all  is  it  not  worth  dispensing  with  a  few  worn 
names  to  look  out  at  the  world  through  those  fearless 
magnificent  eyes  of  hers — to  walk  the  world  with  such 
limbs  and  such  a  body?  Did  you  ever  see  such  self- 
possession,  such  superb  capacity  for  good  and  evil, 
such  quality  and  texture!  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  I  am  quite 
crazy  about  her — like  everybody  and  John  Garret 
Hamil,  third." 

"/*  he?" 

She  laughed.     "Do  you  doubt  it?" 

Malcourt  drew  bridle,  fished  for  his  case,  and 
lighted  a  cigarette;  then  he  spurred  forward  again, 
alert,  intent,  head  partly  turned  in  that  curious  atti 
tude  of  listening,  though  Virginia  was  riding  now  in 
pensive  silence. 

"  Louis,"  she  said  at  last,  "  what  is  it  you  hear 
when  you  seem  to  listen  that  way.  It's  uncanny." 

"  I'll  tell  your  he  said.  "  My  father  had  a  very 
pleasant,  persuasive  voice.  ...  I  was  fond  of  him. 
...  And  sometimes  I  still  argue  with  him — in  the  old 
humourous  fashion " 

"What?"— with  a  shiver. 

"  In  the  old  amusing  way,"  continued  Malcourt 
quietly.  "  Sometimes  he  makes  suggestions  to  me — 
curious  suggestions — easy  ways  out  of  trouble — and 
I  listen — as  you  noticed." 

The  girl  looked  at  him,  reined  up  closer,  and  bent 
forward,  looking  him  intently  in  the  eyes. 

"Well,  dear?"  inquired  Malcourt,  with  a  smile. 
269 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


But  she  only  straightened  up  in  her  saddle,  a  chill 
creeping  in  her  veins. 

A  few  moments  later  he  suggested  that  they  gallop. 
He  was  obliged  to,  for  he  had  other  interviews  await 
ing  him.  Also  Portlaw,  in  a  vile  humour  with  the  little 
gods  of  high  and  low  finance. 

One  of  these  interviews  occurred  after  his  final 
evening  adieux  to  the  Cardross  family  and  to  Hamil. 
Shiela  drove  him  to  the  hotel  in  Gray's  motor,  slowly, 
when  they  were  out  of  sight,  at  Malcourt's  request. 

"  I  wanted  to  give  you  another  chance,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  a  little  more  selfish,  this  time — because,  if  I  had 
a  decent  opportunity  I  think  I'd  try  to  fall  in  love 
with  somebody  or  other- " 

She  flushed  painfully,  looking  straight  ahead  over 
the  steering-wheel  along  the  blinding  path  of  the 
acetylenes. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said,  "  because  I  had — had 
almost  concluded  to  tell  them — everything." 

"  What !  "  he  asked,  aghast. 

Her  eyes  were  steadily  fixed  on  the  fan-shaped 
radiance  ahead  which  played  fantastically  along  the 
silvery  avenue  of  palms  and  swept  the  white  road  with 
a  glitter  like  moonlight  streaming  over  snow. 

"  You  mean  you  are  ready  for  your  freedom, 
Shiela?" 

"  No." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"That— it  may  be  best— best— to  tell  them  .  .  . 
and  face  what  is  left  of  life,  together." 

"You  and/?" 

"  Yes." 

He  sat  beside  her,  dumb,  incredulous,  nimble  wit« 
270 


AN    ULTIMATUM 


searching  for  reasons.  What  was  he  to  reckon  with 
in  this  sudden,  calm  suggestion  of  a  martyrdom  with 
him?  A  whim?  Some  occult  caprice? — or  a  quarrel 
with  Hamil?  Was  she  wearied  of  the  deception?  Or 
distrustful  of  herself,  in  her  new  love  for  Hamil,  lest 
she  be  tempted  to  free  herself  after  all?  Was  she 
already  at  that  point  where,  desperate,  benefits  forgot, 
wavering  between  infatuation  and  loyalty,  she  turned, 
dismayed,  to  the  only  pourse  which  must  crush  tempta 
tion  for  ever? 

"Is  that  it?"  he  asked. 

"  What?  "  Her  lips  moved,  forming  the  word  with 
out  sound. 

"  Is  it  because  you  are  so  sorely  tempted  to  free 
yourself  at  their  expense?  " 

"  Partly." 

"You  poor  child!" 

"  No  child  now,  Louis.  ...  I  have  thought  too 
deeply,  too  clearly.  There  is  no  childhood  left  in  me. 
I  know  things.  .  .  .  You  will  help  me,  won't  you — if 
I  find  I  need  you  ?  " 

"Need  me,  Shiela?" 

"  I  may,"  she  said  excitedly ;  "  you  can't  tell ;  and 
I  don't  know.  It  is  all  so  confused.  I  thought  I  knew 
myself  but  I  seem  to  have  just  discovered  a  devil  look 
ing  back  at  me  out  of  my  own  reflected  eyes  from  my 
own  mirror !  " 

"  What  an  exaggerated  little  thing  you  are ! "  he 
said,  forcing  a  laugh. 

"  Am  I?  It  must  be  part  of  me  then.  I  tell  you, 
since  that  day  they  told  me  what  I  am,  I  have  wondered 
what  else  I  might  be.  I  don't  know,  but  I'm  watching. 
There  are  changes — omens,  sinister  enough  to  frighten 

me " 

271 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Are  you  turning  morbid?  " 

"I  don't  know,  Louis.  Am  I?  How  can  I  tell? 
Whom  am  I  to  ask?  I  could  ask  my  own  mother  if  I 
had  one — even  if  it  hurt  her.  Mothers  are  made  for 
pain — as  we  young  girls  are.  Miserable,  wretched,  de 
ceitful,  frightened  as  I  am  I  could  tell  her — tell  her 
all.  .  .  .  The  longing  to  have  her,  to  tell  her  has  be 
come  almost — almost  unendurable — lately.  ...  I  have 
so  much  need  of  her.  .  .  .  You.  don't  know  the  deso 
lation  of  it — and  the  fear !  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
talking  this  way.  It's  over  now.  You  see  I  am  quite 
calm." 

"  Can't  you  confide  in  your — other  mother " 

"  I  have  no  right.     She  did  not  bear  me." 

"  It  is  the  same  as  though  you  were  her  own ;  she 
feels  so " 

"  She  cannot  feel  so !  Nor  can  I.  If  I  could  I 
would  take  my  fears  and  sorrows  and  my  sins  to  her. 
I  could  take  them  to  my  own  mother,  for  both  our 
sakes ;  I  cannot,  to  her,  for  my  own  sake  alone.  And 
never  can." 

"Then — I  don't  understand!  You  have  just  sug 
gested  telling  her  about  ourselves,  haven't  you?" 

"  Yes.  But  not  that  it  has  been  a  horror — a  mis 
take.  If  I  tell  her — if  I  think  it  necessary — best — to 
tell  them,  I — it  will  be  done  with  mask  still  on — cheer 
fully — asking  pardon  with  a  smile — I  do  not  lack  that 
kind  of  courage.  I  can  do  that — if  I  must." 

"  There  will  be  a  new  ceremony  ?  " 

"  If  they  wish.  ...  I  can't — can't  talk  of  it  yet, 
unless  I'm  driven  to  it " 

He  looked  quietly  around  at  her.  "What  drives 
you,  Shiela?" 

Her  eyes  remained  resolutely  fixed  on  the  road 
272 


AN   ULTIMATUM 


ahead,  but  her  cheeks  were  flaming;  and  he  turned  his 
gaze  elsewhere,  thoughtful,  chary  of  speech,  until  at 
last  the  lights  of  the  station  twinkled  in  the  north. 

Then  he  said,  carelessly  friendly:  "  I'll  just  say  this: 
that,  being  of  no  legitimate  use  to  anybody,  if  you  find 
any  use  for  me,  you  merely  need  to  say  so." 

"  Thank  you,  Louis." 

"  No ;  I  thank  you !  It's  a  new  sensation — to  be  of 
legitimate  use  to  anybody.  Really,  I'm  much  obliged." 

"  Don't  speak  so  bitterly " 

"  Not  at  all.  Short  of  being  celestially  translated 
and  sinlessly  melodious  on  my  pianola  up  aloft,  I  had 
no  hope  of  ever  being  useful  to  you  and  Hamil " 

She  turned  a  miserable  and  colourless  face  to  his  and 
he  ceased,  startled  at  the  tragedy  in  such  young  eyes. 

Then  he  burst  out  impulsively :  "  Oh,  why  don't  you 
cut  and  run  with  him !  Why,  you  little  ninny,  if  I  loved 
anybody  like  that  I'd  not  worry  over  the  morals  of  it !  " 

"What!"  she  gasped. 

"  Not  I !  Make  a  nunnery  out  of  me  if  you  must ; 
clutch  at  me  for  sanctuary,  if  you  want  to ;  I'll  stand 
for  it !  But  if  you'll  listen  to  me  you'll  give  up  romantic 
martyrdom  and  sackcloth,  put  on  your  best  frock,  smile 
on  Hamil,  and  go  and  ask  your  mother  for  a  bright, 
shiny,  brand-new  divorce." 

Revolted,  incensed,  eyes  brilliant  with  anger,  she  sat 
speechless  and  rigid,  clutching  the  steering-wheel  as  he 
nimbly  descended  to  the  platform. 

"  Good-bye,  Shiela,"  he  said  with  a  haggard  smile. 
**  I  meant  well — as  usual." 

Something  about  him  as  he  stood  there  alone  in  the 
lamp's  white  radiance  stilled  her  anger  by  degrees. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said  with  an  effort. 

He  nodded,  replaced  his  hat,  and  turned  away. 

: 


THE   FIEIXG    LI\E 


de  the  •otor,  hat 
always*  and  ex- 

,,     ^  »    7 


d  soul  and  in- 

Bat  not  f  or 

tothanr  How 


or.  .  .  .  If  it  xs  —  adHsabie  — 

what  to  do.  .  .  .  ADd,befieve 
-I  am  deeply,  deeply  aonj! 


vtil  the  tzman  started. 


CHAPTER   XVII 


SOXB   minutes   later,  on   the   nortinrard 
train,  he  left  Portlaw  playing  solitaire  in  their 
compartment,  and,  crossing  the  swaying  corridor, 


tered  the  state-room  opposite.  Mis*  W  liming  was 
there,  reading  a  novel,  an  enormoas  bnnch  of  roses, 
a  box  of  bonbons,  and  a  tiny  kitten  on  the  table  be 
fore  her.  The  kitten  was  so  young  that  it  was 
shaky  on  its  legs,  and  it  wore  Terr  wide  eyes  and  a 
blue  bow. 

Hello,  Dolly,"  he  said  pleasantly.     She  answered 
rather  faintly. 

**  What  a  Toice — like  the  peep  of  an  infant  sparrow! 
Are  you  worrying?  " 

"A  Kttfc." 

«  Yon  needn't  be.     Alphonse  wffl  make  a  noise,  of 
but  yon  needn't  mfnd  t^ftt     Tie  mft*n  thing  in 

is  to  know  what  yon  want  to  do  and  do  it-  Which 
Fve  never  yet  done  in  my  fife.  Zut!  Zut!!— as  our 
late  Count  Alphonse  might  say.  And  heTl  say  other 
remarks  when  he  finds  you're  gone,  DoDy."  And  Mai- 
court,  who  was  a  mimic,  shrugged  and  raised  his  arms 
in  Gallic  appeal  to  the  gods  of  wrath,  untfl  he  mouthed 
bis  face  into  a  startling  r>j^«JilMM^>  to  that  of  the 
bereft  nobleman. 

Then  he  laughed  a  little— not  very  heartily;  then, 
275 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


in  a  more  familiar  role,  he  sat  down  opposite  the  girl 
and  held  up  one  finger  of  admonition  and  consolation. 

"  The  main  thing,  Dolly,  was  to  get  clear  of  him — 
and  all  that  silly  business.  Yes?  No?  Bon!  .  .  .  And 
now  everything  is  cleared  up  between  us,  and  I've  told 
you  what  I'd  do — if  you  really  wanted  a  chance.  I 
believe  in  chances  for  people." 

The  girl,  who  was  young,  buried  her  delicate  face  in 
the  roses  and  looked  at  him.  The  kitten,  balanced  on 
tiny,  wavering  legs,  stared  hard  at  him,  too.  He  looked 
from  girl  to  kitten,  conscious  of  the  resemblance,  and 
managed  to  smother  a  smile. 

"  You  said,"  he  repeated  severely,  "  that  you  wanted 
a  chance.  I  told  you  what  I  could  and  would  do;  see 
that  you  live  and  dress  decently,  stand  for  your  musi 
cal,  dramatic,  athletic,  and  terpsichorean  education  and 
drilling — but  not  for  one  atom  of  nonsense.  Is  that 
clear?" 

She  nodded. 

"  Not  one  break ;  not  one  escapade,  Dolly.  It's  up 
to  you." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  All  right,  then.  What's  passed  doesn't  count. 
You  start  in  and  see  what  you  can  do.  They  say  they 
drag  one  about  by  the  hair  at  those  dramatic  schools. 
If  they  do,  you've  got  to  let  'em.  Anyway,  things  ought 
to  come  easier  to  you  than  to  some,  for  you've  got  a 
corking  education,  and  you  don't  drink  sloe-gin,  and 
you  don't  smoke." 

"  And  I  can  cook,"  added  the  girl  gravely,  looking 
at  her  childish  ringless  hands.  The  rings  and  a  number 
of  other  details  had  been  left  behind  addressed  to  the 
count. 

"  The  trouble  will  be,"  said  Malcourt,  "  that  you  will 
276 


ECHOES 


miss  the  brightness  and  frivolity  of  things.  That  kit 
ten  won't  compensate." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  I  haven't  had  very  much  of  any 
thing — even  kittens,"  she  said,  picking  up  the  soft  ball 
of  fur  and  holding  it  under  her  chin. 

"  You  missed  the  frivolous  in  life  even  before  you 
had  it.  You'll  miss  it  again,  too." 

"  But  I've  had  it  now." 

"  That  doesn't  count.  The  capacity  for  frivolity  is 
always  there.  You  are  reconciled  just  now  to  other 
things ;  that  man  is  a  beast  all  right.  Oh,  yes ;  this  is 
reaction,  Dolly.  The  idea  is  to  hang  on  to  this  con 
servatism  when  it  becomes  stupid  and  irksome;  when 
you're  tired  and  discouraged,  and  when  you  want  to  be 
amused  and  be  in  bright,  attractive  places ;  and  when 
you're  lonesome " 

"  Lonesome?  " 

"  Certainly  you'll  be  lonesome  if  you're  good." 

"  Am  I  not  to  see  you?  " 

"  I'll  be  in  the  backwoods  working  for  a  living " 

"  Yes,  but  when  you  come  to  New  York  ?  " 

"  Sure  tiling." 

"Often?" 

"  As  often  as  it's  advisable,"  he  said  pleasantly.  "  I 
want  you  to  make  friends  at  school ;  I  want  you  to  have 
lots  of  them.  A  bachelor  girl  has  got  to  have  'em.  .  .  . 
It's  on  your  account  and  theirs  that  I  don't  intend  to 
have  anybody  make  any  mistake  about  me.  .  .  .  There 
fore,  I'll  come  to  see  you  when  you've  a  friend  or  two 
present.  It's  fairer  to  you.  Now  do  you  understand 
me,  Dolly?" 

"  Yes." 

"Is  it  agreeable?" 

"Y-es."  And,  flushing:  "But  I  did  not  mistake 
277 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


jou,  Louis;  and  there  is  no  reason  not  to  come,  even  if 
I  am  alone." 

He  laughed,  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  stroked  the 
kitten. 

"  It's  an  amusing  experiment,  anyway,"  he  said. 

"  Have  you  never  tried  it  before  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  several  times." 

"  Were  the  several  times  successes  ?  " 

"  Not  one !  "  he  said,  laughing.  "  It's  up  to  you* 
Dolly,  to  prove  me  a  bigger  ass  than  I  have  been  yet — » 
or  the  reverse." 

"  It  lies  with  me?  "  she  asked. 

"  Certainly.     Have  I  ever  made  love  to  you?  " 

"  No." 

"  Ever  even  kissed  you  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Ever  been  a  brute?  " 

"  No.  .  .  .  You  are  not  very  careful  in  speaking 
to  me  sometimes.  Once — at  the  Club — when  Mr. 
Hamil " 

"  I  was  brutal.  I  know  it.  Do  you  want  my  re 
spect?  " 

"  Y-es." 

"  Earn  it,"  he  said  drily. 

The  girl  leaned  back  in  her  corner,  flushed,  silent, 
thoughtful;  and  sometimes  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  va 
cancy,  sometimes  on  him  where  he  sat  in  the  opposite 
seat  staring  out  into  the  blurred  darkness  at  the 
red  eye  of  the  beacon  on  Jupiter  Light  which  turned 
flaring,  turned  again,  dwindling  to  a  spark,  and  went 
out. 

"  Of  what  are  you  thinking?  "  she  asked,  noticing 
bis  frown. 

He  did  not  reply ;  he  was  thinking  of  Shiela  Cardroae. 
278 


ECHOES 


And,  frowning,  he  picked  up  the  kitten,  very  gently, 
and  flattered  it  until  it  purred. 

"  It's  about  as  big  as  a  minute,"  said  the  girl,  softly 
touching  the  tiny  head. 

"  There  are  minutes  as  big  as  elephants,  too,"  ke 
said,  amused.  "  Nice  pussy !  "  The  kitten,  concurring 
in  these  sentiments,  purred  with  pleasure. 

A  little  later  he  sauntered  back  to  his  own  compart 
ment,  and,  taking  out  a  memorandum,  made  some  figure*. 

"Is  that  girl  aboard?"  asked  Portlaw,  looking  up 
from  the  table,  his  fat  hands  full  of  cards. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so." 

"  Well,  that's  a  deuce  of  a  thing  to  do." 

"What?"— absently. 

"  What !  Why,  to  travel  about  the  country  with  tfee 
nucleus  of  a  theatrical  troupe  on  your  hands " 

"  She  wanted  another  chance.     Few  get  it." 

"  Very  well,  son,  if  you  think  you  can  afford  to  en 
dow  a  home  for  the  frivolously  erring ! — And  the  chances 
are  she'll  turn  on  you  and  scratch." 

"  Yes — the  chances  favour  that." 

"  She  won't  understand  it;  that  sort  never  under 
stands  decency  in  a  man." 

"  Do  you  think  it  might  damage  my  reputation  to  be 
misunderstood  ?  "  sneered  Malcourt.  "  I've  taken  a  no 
tion  to  give  her  a  chance  and  I'm  going  to  do  it." 

Portlaw  spread  out  his  first  row  of  cards.  "  Yom 
know  what  everybody  will  think,  I  suppose." 

Malcourt  yawned. 

Presently  Portlaw  began  in  a  babyish-irritated 
Toice :  "  I've  buried  the  deuce  and  trey  of  diamonds, 
and  blocked  myself " 

"  Oh,   shut   up !  "  said  Malcourt,  who  was  hastily 
scribbling  a  letter  to  Virginia  Suydam. 
19  279 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


He  did  not  post  it,  however,  until  he  reached  New- 
York,  being  very  forgetful  and  busy  in  taking  money 
away  from  the  exasperated  Portlaw  through  the  medium 
of  double  dummy.  Also  he  had  a  girl,  a  kitten,  and 
other  details  to  look  after,  and  several  matters  to  think 
over.  So  Virginia's  letter  waited. 

Virginia  waited,  too.  She  had  several  headaches  to 
keep  inquiring  friends  at  a  distance,  for  her  eyes  were 
inclined  to  redness  in  those  days,  and  she  developed  a 
pronounced  taste  for  the  solitude  of  the  chapel  and 
churchly  things. 

So  when  at  length  the  letter  arrived,  Miss  Suydam 
evaded  Constance  and  made  for  the  beach ;  for  it  was 
her  natural  instinct  to  be  alone  with  Malcourt,  and  the 
instinct  unconsciously  included  even  his  memory. 

Her  maid  was  packing;  Constance  Palliser's  maid 
was  also  up  to  her  chin  in  lingerie,  and  Constance  hov 
ered  in  the  vicinity.  So  there  was  no  privacy  there,  and 
that  was  the  reason  Virginia  evaded  them,  side-stepped 
Gussie  Vetchen  at  the  desk,  eluded  old  Classon  in  the 
palm  room,  and  fled  like  a  ghost  through  the  empty 
corridors  as  though  the  deuce  were  at  her  heels  instead 
of  in  her  heart. 

The  heart  of  Virginia  was  cutting  up.  Alone  in 
the  corridors  she  furtively  glanced  at  the  letter, 
kissed  the  edge  of  the  envelope,  rolled  and  tucked  it 
away  in  her  glove,  and  continued  her  flight  in  search 
of  solitude. 

The  vast  hotel  seemed  lonely  enough,  but  it  evidently 
was  too  populous  to  suit  Miss  Suydam.  Yet  few  guests 
remained,  and  the  larger  caravansary  was  scheduled  to 
close  in  another  day  or  two,  the  residue  population  to 
be  transferred  to  "  The  Breakers." 

280 


ECHOES 


The  day  was  piping  hot  but  magnificent;  corridor, 
piazza,  colonnade,  and  garden  were  empty  of  life,  ex 
cept  for  a  listless  negro  servant  dawdling  here  and 
there.  Virginia  managed  to  find  a  wheel-chair  under  the 
colonnade  and  a  fat  black  boy  at  the  control  to  propel 
it;  and  with  her  letter  hidden  in  her  glove,  and  her 
heart  racing,  she  seated  herself,  parasol  tilted,  chin  in 
the  air,  and  the  chair  rolled  noiselessly  away  through 
the  dazzling  sunshine  of  the  gardens. 

On  the  beach  some  barelegged  children  were  wading 
in  the  surf's  bubbling  ebb,  hunting  for  king-crabs ;  an 
old  black  mammy,  wearing  apron  and  scarlet  turban, 
sat  luxuriously  in  the  burning  sand  watching  her  thin- 
legged  charges,  and  cooking  the  "  misery  "  out  of  her 
aged  bones.  Virginia  could  see  nobody  else,  except 
a  distant  swimmer  beyond  the  raft,  capped  with  a 
scarlet  kerchief.  This  was  not  solitude,  but  it 
must  do. 

So  she  dismissed  her  chair-boy  and  strolled  out  under 
the  pier.  And,  as  nobody  was  there  to  interrupt  her 
she  sat  down  in  the  sand  and  opened  her  letter  with  fin 
gers  that  seemed  absurdly  helpless  and  unsteady. 

"  On  the  train  near  Jupiter  Light,"  it  was  headed ; 
and  presently  continued: 

"  I  am  trying  to  be  unselfishly  honest  with  you  to  see 
how  it  feels.  First — about  my  loving  anybody.  I  never 
have ;  I  have  on  several  occasions  been  prepared  to  bestow 
heart  and  hand — been  capable  of  doing  it — and  some 
thing  happened  every  time.  On  one  of  these  receptive 
occasions  the  thing  that  happened  put  me  permanently 
out  of  business.  I'll  tell  you  about  that  later. 

"  What  I  want  to  say  is  that  the  reason  I  don't  love 
you  is  not  because  I  can't,  but  because  I  won't!  You 

281 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


don't  understand  that.  Let  me  try  to  explain.  I've  al 
ways  had  the  capacity  for  really  loving  some  woman. 
I  was  more  or  less  lonely  and  shy  as  a  child  and  had 
few  playmates — very  few  girls  of  my  age.  I  adored 
those  I  knew — but — well,  I  was  not  considered  to  be  a 
very  desirable  playmate  by  those  parents  who  knew  the 
Malcourt  history. 

"  One  family  was  nice  to  me — some  of  them.  I  usu 
ally  cared  a  great  deal  for  anybody  who  was  nice  to  me. 

"  The  point  of  all  this  biography  is  that  I'm  usually 
somewhat  absurdly  touched  by  the  friendship  of  an  at 
tractive  woman  of  my  own  sort — or,  rather,  of  the  sort 
I  might  have  been.  That  is  my  attitude  toward  you; 
you  are  amiable  to  me;  I  like  you. 

"  Now,  why  am  I  not  in  love  with  you  ?  I've  told 
you  that  it's  because  I  will  not  let  myself  be  in  love  with 
you.  Why  ? 

"  Dear — it's  just  because  you  have  been  nice  to  me. 
Do  you  understand?  No,  you  don't.  Then — to  go 
back  to  what  I  spoke  of — I  am  not  free  to  marry.  I 
am  married.  Now  you  know.  And  there's  no  way  out 
of  it  that  I  can  see. 

"  If  I  were  in  love  with  you  I'd  simply  take  you.  I 
am  only  your  friend — and  I  can't  do  you  that  injury. 
Curious,  isn't  it,  how  such  a  blackguard  as  I  am  can 
be  so  fastidious ! 

"  But  that's  the  iruth.  And  that,  too,  may  explain 
a  number  of  other  matters. 

"  So  you  see  how  it  is,  dear.  The  world  is  full  of  a 
number  of  things.  One  of  them  signs  himself  your 

friend>  "  Louis  MALCOURT." 

Virginia's  eyes  remained  on  the  written  page  long 
after  she  had  finished  reading.  They  closed  once  or 

282 


ECHOES 


twice,  opened  again,  blue-green,  expressionless.  Look 
ing  aloft  after  a  while  she  tried  to  comprehend  that 
the  sky  was  still  overhead ;  but  it  seemed  to  be  a  tricky, 
unsteady,  unfamiliar  sky,  wavering,  crawling  across 
space  like  the  wrinkled  sea  beneath  it.  Confused,  she 
turned,  peering  about ;  the  beach,  too,  was  becoming 
unstable;  and,  through  the  sudden  rushing  darkness 
that  obscured  things,  she  tried  to  rise,  then  dropped 
full  length  along  the  sand. 

A  few  seconds  later — or  perhaps  minutes,  or  per 
haps  hours — she  found  herself  seated  perfectly  con 
scious,  mechanically  drying  the  sea-water  from  her  wet 
face;  while  beside  her  knelt  a  red-capped  figure  in  wet 
bathing-dress,  both  hands  brimming  with  sea-water 
which  ran  slowly  between  the  delicate  fingers  and  fell, 
sparkling. 

"  Do  you  feel  better  ?  "  asked  Shiela  gently. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  perfectly  conscious  and  vaguely 
surprised.  Presently  she  looked  down  at  her  skirts, 
groped  about,  turned,  searching  with  outstretched 
fingers.  Then  her  eyes  fell  on  the  letter.  It  lay  on 
the  sand  beside  her  sunshade,  carefully  weighted  with 
a  shell. 

Neither  she  nor  the  girl  beside  her  spoke.  Virginia 
adjusted  her  hat  and  veil,  sat  motionless  for  a  few 
moments,  then  picked  up  the  water-stained  letter  and, 
rolling  it,  placed  it  in  her  wet  glove.  A  slow  flame 
burned  in  her  pallid  cheeks;  her  eyes  remained  down 
cast. 

Shiela  said  with  quick  sympathy :  "  I  never  fainted 
in  my  life.  Is  it  painful?  " 

"  No — it's  only  rather  horrid.  ...  I  had  been 
walking  in  the  sun.  It  is  very  hot  on  the  beach,  I 
think;  don't  you?" 

283 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


66  Very,"  said  the  girl  gravely. 

Virginia,  head  still  bent,  was  touching  her  wet  lace 
waist  with  her  wetter  gloves. 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice 
— "  and  quite  stupid  of  me." 

Shiela  straightened  to  her  full  height  and  stood 
gravely  watching  the  sea-water  trickle  from  her  joined 
palms.  When  the  last  shining  drop  had  fallen  she 
looked  questioningly  at  Miss  Suydam. 

"  I'm  a  little  tired,  that  is  all,"  said  Virginia.  She 
rose  rather  unsteadily  and  took  advantage  of  Shiela's 
firm  young  arm,  which,  as  they  progressed,  finally 
slipped  around  Miss  Suydam's  waist. 

Very  slowly  they  crossed  the  burning  sands  to 
gether,  scarcely  exchanging  a  word  until  they  reached 
the  Cardross  pavilion. 

"  If  you'll  wait  until  I  have  my  shower  I'll  take 
you  back  in  my  chair,"  said  Shiela.  "  Come  into  my 
own  dressing-room;  there's  a  lounge." 

Virginia,  white  and  haggard,  seated  herself,  lean 
ing  back  languidly  against  the  wall  and  closing  her 
heavy  eyes.  They  opened  again  when  Shiela  came  back 
from  the  shower,  knotting  in  the  girdle  of  her  snowy 
bath-robe,  and  seated  herself  while  her  maid  unloosed 
the  thick  hair  and  rubbed  it  till  the  brown-gold  lustre 
came  out  like  little  gleams  of  sunlight,  and  the  ends 
of  the  burnished  tresses  crisped  and  curled  up  on  the 
smooth  shoulders  of  snow  and  rose. 

Virginia's  lips  began  to  quiver;  she  was  fairly 
flinching  now  under  the  pitiless  contrast,  fascinated 
yet  shrinking  from  the  splendid  young  creature  before 
her,  resting  there  aglow  in  all  the  vigourous  beauty 
of  untainted  health. 

And  from  the  mirror  reflected,  the  clear  eyes 
284 


^ ECHOES       

smiled  back  at  her,  seeming  to  sear  her  very  soul  with 
their  untarnished  loveliness. 

"Suppose  you  come  and  lunch  with  me?"  said 
Shiela.  "  I  happen  to  be  quite  alone.  My  maid  is  very 
glad  to  do  anything  for  you.  Will  you  come?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Virginia  faintly. 

An  hour  later  they  had  luncheon  together  in  the 
jasmine  arbour;  and  after  that  Virginia  lay  in  the 
hammock  under  the  orange-trees,  very  still,  very  tired, 
glad  of  the  silence,  and  of  the  soft  cool  hand  which 
covered  hers  so  lightly,  and,  at  rare  intervals,  pressed 
hers  more  lightly  still. 

Shiela,  elbow  on  knee,  one  arm  across  the  hammock's 
edge,  chin  cupped  in  her  other  palm,  sat  staring  at 
vacancy  beside  the  hammock  where  Virginia  lay.  And 
sometimes  her  partly  doubled  fingers  indented  her  red 
lower  lip,  sometimes  they  half  framed  the  oval  face,  as 
she  sat  lost  in  thought  beside  the  hammock  where  Vir 
ginia  lay  so  pale  and  still. 

Musing  there  in  the  dappled  light,  already  linked 
together  by  that  subtle  sympathy  which  lies  in  silence 
and  in  a  common  need  of  it,  they  scarcely  stirred  save 
when  Shiela's  fingers  closed  almost  imperceptibly  on 
Virginia's  hand,  and  Virginia's  eyelids  quivered  in 
vague  response. 

In  youth,  sadness  and  silence  are  near  akin.  That 
was  the  only  kinship  they  could  claim — this  slim,  pale 
scion  of  a  worn-out  line,  and  the  nameless,  parentless 
girl  beside  her.  This  kinship  was  their  only  bond — 
unadmitted,  uncomprehended  by  themselves ;  kinship  in 
love,  and  the  sadness  of  it;  in  love,  and  the  loneliness 
of  it ;  love — and  the  long  hours  of  waiting ;  night,  and 
the  tears  of  it. 

The  sun  hung  low  behind  the  scented  orange  grove 


THE  FIRING  LINE 


before  Virginia  moved,  laying  her  thin  cheek  on  Shi 
ela's  hand. 

"  Did  you  see — that  letter — in  the  sand?  "  she 
whispered. 

"  Yes." 

"  The  writing — y ou  knew  it  ?  ...  Answer  me, 
Shiela." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it." 

Virginia  lay  very  still  for  a  while,  then  covered  her 
face  with  both  hands. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear !  "  breathed  Shiela,  bend 
ing  close  beside  her. 

Virginia  lay  motionless  for  a  moment,  then  uncov 
ered  her  face. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  said,  in  a  colourless,  almost 
inaudible  voice.  "  You  see  I  am  simply  helpless — de 
pendent  on  your  mercy.  .  .  .  Because  a  woman  does 
not  faint  over — nothing." 

The  deep  distress  in  Shiela's  eyes  held  her  silent 
for  a  space.  She  looked  back  at  her,  then  her  brood 
ing  gaze  shifted  to  the  laden  branches  overhead,  to 
the  leafy  vistas  beyond,  to  the  ground  where  the 
golden  fruit  lay  burning  in  the  red,  level  rays  of  the 
western  sun. 

"  I  did  not  know  he  was  married,"  she  said  va 
cantly. 

Swift  anger   burned  in   Shiela's  cheeks. 

"  He  was  a  coward  not  to  tell  you " 

"  He  was  honourable  about  it,"  said  Virginia,  in 
the  same  monotonous  voice.  "  Do  you  think  I  am 
shameless  to  admit  it?  Perhaps  I  am,  but  it  is  fairer 
to  him.  As  you  know  this  much,  you  should  know 
the  truth.  And  the  truth  is  that  he  has  never  said  he 
loved  me." 

286 


ECHOES 

Her  face  had  become  pinched  and  ghastly,  but  her 
mouth  never  quivered  under  this  final  humiliation. 

"  Did  you  ever  look  upon  a  more  brazen  and  de 
fenceless  woman — "  she  began — and  then  very  quietly 
and  tearlessly  broke  down  in  Shiela's  tender  arms,  face 
hidden  on  the  young  girl's  breast. 

And  Shiela's  heart  responded  passionately;  but  all 
she  could  find  to  say  was :  "  Dear — I  know — indeed,  in 
deed  I  know — believe  me  I  know  and  understand !  " 
And  all  she  could  do  was  to  gather  the  humbled  woman 
into  her  arms  until,  her  grief  dry-spent,  Virginia  raised 
her  head  and  looked  at  Shiela  with  strange,  quenched, 
tearless  eyes. 

"  We  women  are  very  helpless,  very  ignorant,"  she 
said,  "  even  the  worst  of  us.  And  I  doubt  if  in  all 
our  lives  we  are  capable  of  the  harm  that  one  man 
refrains  from  doing  for  an  hour.  .  .  .  And  that,  I 
think,  is  our  only  compensation.  .  .  .  What  theirs  may 
be  I  do  not  know.  .  .  .  Dear,  I  am  perfectly  able  to 
go,  now.  ...  I  think  I  see  your  mother  coming." 

They  walked  together  to  the  terrace  where  Mrs. 
Cardross  had  just  arrived  in  the  motor;  and  Shiela, 
herself  shaken,  wondered  at  the  serene  poise  with  which 
Virginia  sustained  ten  minutes  of  commonplaces  and 
then  made  her  final  adieux,  saying  that  she  was  leaving 
on  the  morning  train. 

"  May  we  not  see  each  other  in  town  ?  "  she  added 
amiably ;  and,  to  Shiela :  "  You  will  let  me  know  when 
you  come  North?  I  shall  miss  you  until  you  come." 

Mrs.  Cardross  sent  her  back  in  the  motor,  a  trifle 
surprised  at  any  intimacy  between  Shiela  and  Virginia. 
She  asked  a  frank  question  or  two  and  then  retired  to 
write  to  Mrs.  Carrick,  who,  uneasy,  had  at  last  gone 
North  to  find  out  what  financial  troubles  were  keeping 

287 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


both  her  husband  and  her  father  so  long  away  from 
this  southland  that  they  loved  so  well. 

Hamil,  who  was  to  leave  for  the  North  with  his 
aunt  and  Virginia  early  next  morning,  returned  from 
the  forest  about  sundown,  reeking  as  usual  of  the  sad 
dle,  and  rested  a  moment  against  the  terrace  balustrade 
watching  Mrs.  Cardross  and  Shiela  over  their  tea. 

"  That  boy  is  actually  ill,"  said  the  sympathetic 
matron.  "  Why  don't  you  give  him  some  tea,  Shiela  ? 
Or  would  you  rather  have  a  little  wine  and  a  biscuit, 
Garret ?  " 

"And  a  few  pills,"  added  Shiela  gravely.  "I 
found  a  box  of  odds  and  ends — powders,  pills,  tablets, 
which  he  might  as  well  finish " 

"Shiela!  Garret  is  tH!" 

Hamil,  busy  with  his  Madeira  and  biscuit,  laughed. 
He  could  not  realise  he  was  on  the  eve  of  leaving,  nor 
could  Shiela. 

"  Never,"  said  he  to  the  anxious  lady,  "  have  I  felt 
better  in  my  life;  and  I'm  sure  it  is  due  to  your  medi 
cines.  It's  all  very  well  for  Shiela  to  laugh  at  quinine ; 
mosquitoes  don't  sting  her.  But  I'd  probably  be  an 
item  in  one  of  those  phosphate  beds  by  this  time  if  you 
hadn't  taken  care  of  me." 

Shiela  laughed ;  Hamil  in  excellent  humour  went  off 
to  dress.  Everybody  seemed  to  be  in  particularly  good 
spirits  that  evening,  but  later,  after  dinner,  Gray 
spoke  complainingly  of  the  continued  absence  of  his 
father. 

"  As  for  Acton  Carrick,  he's  the  limit,"  added  Gray 
disgustedly.  "  He  hasn't  been  here  this  winter  except 
for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  he  took  the  train  from  Mi 
ami  straight  through  to  New  York.  I  say,  Hamil,  you'll 
look  him  up  and  write  us  about  him,  won't  you  ?  " 

288 


ECHOES „__ 

Shiela  looked  at  Hamil. 

"  Do  you  understand  anything  about  financial 
troubles  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  bantering  voice. 

"  I've  had  some  experience  with  my  own,"  he 
said. 

"  Well,  then,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  market?  " 

"Shall  I  whisper  it?" 

"  If  you  are  prepared  to  rhyme  it.     I  dare  you !  " 

It  was  the  rule  of  the  house  that  anybody  was  privi 
leged  to  whisper  at  table  provided  they  put  what  they 
had  to  communicate  into  rhyme. 

So  he  thought  busily  a  moment,  then  leaned  over 
very  gravely  and  whispered  close  to  her  ear: 

ee  'Tis  money  makes  the  market  go  ; 
When  money's  high  the  market's  low ; 
When  money's  low  the  market's  right, 
And  speculators  sleep  at  night. 
But,  dear,  there  is  another  mart, 
Where  ticks  the  ticker  called  my  heart ; 
And  there  exhaustless  funds  await, 
To  back  my  bankrupt  trust  in  Fate ; 
For  you  will  find,  as  I  have  found, 
The  old,  old  logic  yet  is  sound, 
And  love  still  makes  the  world  go  round." 

"  I  always  knew  it,"  said  Shiela  contemptuously. 

66  Knew  what,  dear  ?  "  asked  her  mother,  amused. 

"  That  Mr.  Hamil  writes  those  sickening  mottoes 
for  Christmas  crackers." 

"  There  are  pretty  ones  in  them — sometimes,"  said 
Cecile,  reminiscently  spearing  a  big  red  strawberry 
which  resembled  the  popular  and  conventional  concep 
tion  of  a  fat  human  heart. 

Gray,  still  serious,  said :  "  Unless  we  are  outside  of 
289 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


the  danger  zone  I  think  father  ought  to  teach  me  some 
thing  about  business." 

"  If  we  blow  up,"  observed  Cecile,  "  I'll  do  clever 
monologues  and  support  everybody.  I'd  like  that. 
And  Shiela  already  writes  poetry " 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Shiela,  very  pink. 

"Shiela!    You  do  I" 

"  I  did  in  school — "  turning  pinker  under  Hamil's 
tormenting  gaze. 

"  And  you  do  yet !  I  found  an  attempt  on  the 
floor — in  your  flowing  penmanship,"  continued  the 
pitiless  younger  sister.  "  What  is  there  to  blush 
about?  Of  course  Phil  and  I  were  not  low  enough  to 
read  it,  but  I'll  bet  it  was  about  somebody  we  all 
know !  Do  you  want  to  bet — Garry  ?  " 

"  Cecile !  "  said  her  mother  mildly. 

"  Yes,  mother — I  forgot  that  I'm  not  allowed  to 
bet,  but  if  I  was " 

Shiela,  exasperated,  looked  at  her  mother,  who 
shook  her  head  and  rose  from  the  table,  taking  Ham- 
iPs  arm. 

"  You  little  imp !  "  breathed  Shiela  fiercely  to  Ce 
cile,  "  if  you  plague  me  again  I'll  inform  Mr.  Hamil 
of  what  happened  to  you  this  morning." 

"  I  don't  care ;  Garry  is  part  of  the  family,"  re 
torted  Cecile,  flushed  but  defiant  and  not  exactly  dar 
ing  to  add :  "  or  will  be  soon."  Then  she  put  both 
arms  around  Shiela,  and  holding  her  imprisoned: 

"  Are  you  in  love? — you  darling!"  she  whispered 
persuasively.  "  Oh,  don't  commit  yourself  if  you  feel 
that  way!  .  .  .  And,  O  Shiela,  you  should  have  seen 
Phil  Gatewood  following  me  in  love-smitten  hops  when 
I  wouldn't  listen !  My  dear,  the  creature  managed  to 
plant  both  feet  on  my  gown  as  I  fled,  and  the  parquet 

290 


^ ECHOES 

is  so  slippery  and  the  gown  so  flimsy  and,  oh,  there 
was  a  dreadful  ripping  sound  and  we  both  went 
down " 

Shiela  was  laughing  now,  holding  her  sister's  ges 
ticulating  hands,  as  she  rattled  on  excitedly : 

"  I  got  to  my  feet  in  a  blaze  of  fury,  holding  my 
gown  on  with  both  hands 

"  Cissy !  " 

"  And  he  gave  one  horror-stricken  look  and 
ran " 

Swaying  there  together  in  the  deserted  dining- 
room,  they  gave  way  to  uncontrolled  laughter.  Laugh 
ter  rang  out  from  the  living-room,  too,  where  Gray 
was  informing  Mrs.  Cardross  and  Hamil  of  the  un 
toward  climax  to  a  spring-time  wooing;  and  when  Shi 
ela  and  Cecile  came  in  the  latter  looked  suspiciously 
at  Hamil,  requesting  to  know  the  reason  of  his  mirth. 

"  Somebody  will  have  to  whisper  it  to  you  in  rhyme," 
said  Hamil ;  "  it's  not  fit  for  prose,  Cissy." 

Mrs.  Cardross  retired  early.  Gray  went  for  a  spin 
in  his  motor.  Cecile,  mischievously  persuaded  that 
Hamil  desired  to  have  Shiela  to  himself  for  half  an 
hour,  stifled  her  yawns  and  bedward  inclinations  and 
remained  primly  near  them  until  Gray  returned. 

Then  the  four  played  innocuous  Bridge  whist  until 
Cecile's  yawns  could  no  longer  be  disguised ;  and  finally 
Gray  rose  in  disgust  when  she  ignored  the  heart-con 
vention  and  led  him  an  unlovely  spade. 

"  How  many  kinds  of  a  chump  can  you  be  in  one 
day  ?  "  asked  her  wrathful  brother. 

"  Pons  longa,  vita  brevis,"  observed  Hamil,  intensely 
amused.  "  Don't  sit  on  her,  Gray." 

"  O  dear !  O  dear !  "  said  Cecile  calmly,  "  I'd  rather 
be  stepped  on  again  than  sat  on  like  that ! " 

291 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  You're  a  sweet  little  thing  anyway,"  said  Hamil, 
"  even  if  you  do  fall  down  in  Bridge  as  well  as  other 
wise » 

"  Shiela !    You  told  Garret !  " 

"  Cunning  child,"  said  Hamil ;  "  make  her  dance  the 
baby-dance,  Shiela ! "  And  he  and  her  sister  and 
brother  seized  her  unwilling  hands  and  compelled  her 
to  turn  round  and  round,  while  they  chanted  in  unison : 

"  Cissy's  Bridge  is  falling  down, 
Falling  down, 
Falling  down, 

Cissy's  gown  is  falling  down, 
My 
Fair 

Lady!" 

"  Garry,  stop  it !  ...  It's  only  an  excuse  to  hold 

Shiela's  hand " 

But  Shiela  recited  very  gravely : 

"  Father's  in  Manhattan  town, 

Hunting  up  our  money ; 
Philip's  in  the  music-room, 

Calling  Cis  his  honey  ; 
Cissy's  sprinting  through  the  hall, 

Trying  to  be  funny " 

"  I  won't  dance !  "  cried  Cecile. 
But  they  sang  insultingly: 

"  Rock-a-by  Cissy ! 

Philip  nill  slop ! 
Cissy  is  angry, 

For  Philip  won't  stop.'* 
292 


ECHOES 


"  If  dresses  are  stepped  upon, 
Something  will  fall, 
Down  will  come  petticoat,  Cissy,  and  all ! " 

"  O  Garry,  how  can  you !  " 

"  Because  you've  been  too  gay  lately ;  you're  marked 
for  discipline,  young  lady !  " 

"Who  told  you?  Shiela? — and  it  was  my  newest, 
dearest,  duck  of  a  gown!  .  .  .  The  situation  was  per 
fectly  horrid,  too.  What  elephants  men  are !  " 

"  You  know,  I'd  accept  him  if  I  were  you — just  to 
teach  him  the  value  of  gowns,"  suggested  Hamil. 

But  Shiela  said  seriously :  "  Phil  Gatewood  is  a  nice 
boy.  We  all  knew  that  he  was  going  to  ask  you.  You 
acted  like  a  ninny,  Cis." 

"  With  my  gown  half  off ! — what  would  you  have 
done?  "  demanded  the  girl  hotly. 

"  Destroyed  him,"  admitted  Shiela,  "  in  one  way  or 
another,  dear.  And  now  I  am  going  to  bed — if  every 
body  has  had  enough  of  Cissy's  Bridge : 

"  Me  for  the  hay,"  observed  Gray  emphatically. 

So  they  all  went  up  the  stairway  together,  linger 
ing  a  few  moments  on  the  landing  to  say  good  night. 

Cecile  retired  first,  bewailing  the  humiliation  of  not 
having  a  maid  of  her  own  and  requesting  Shiela  to  send 
hers  as  she  was  too  sleepy  to  undress. 

Gray  caught  sight  of  a  moth  fluttering  around  the 
electric  lights  and  made  considerable  noise  securing  the 
specimen.  After  which  he  also  retired,  cyanide  jar  con 
taining  the  victim  tucked  under  his  arm. 


CHAPTER    XVm 


SHIELA,  standing  by  the  lamplit  table  and  resting 
one  slim  hand  on  the  edge  of  it,  waited  for  Hamil  to 
give  the  signal  for  separation. 

Instead  he  said:  **  Are  you  really  sleepy?  " 

"  No." 

«  Then " 

u  I  dare  not— to-night." 

**  For  any  particular  reason  t  " 

"  For  a  thousand.  .  .  .  One  is  that  I  simply  can't 
believe  you  are  really  going  North  to-morrow.  Why  do 
you?  "  She  had  asked  it  nearly  a  thousand  times. 

"I've  got  to  begin  Portlaw's  park;  and,  besides, 
my  work  here  is  over " 

**  Is  that  all  you  care  about  me?  Oh,  you  are  truly 
like  the  real  Ulysses: 

k^ow  toils  the  hero,  trees  on  trees  o'erthrown 
Fall  crackling  round  him,  and  the  forests  groan  ! ' 

Do  you  remember,  in  the  Odyssey,  when  poor  Calyp 
so  begs  him  to  remain? 

"  Thus  spoke  Calypso  to  her  god-like  guest : 
'This  shows  thee,  friend,  by  old  experience  taught, 
And  learn 'd  in  all  the  wiles  of  human  thought, 
294 


PERIL 

How  prone  to  doubt,  how  cautious  are  the  wise ! 
Thus  wilt  thou  leave  me  ?     Are  we  thus  to  part  ? 
Is  Portlaw's  Park  the  passion  of  thy  heart  ?  '  ' 

Laughing,  he  answered  in  the  Grecian  verse: 

"  Whate'er  the  gods  shall  destine  me  to  bear, 
'Tis  mine  to  master  with  a  constant  mind ; 
Inured  to  peril,  to  the  worst  resigned, 
Still  I  can  suffer;  their  high  will  be  done." 

From  the  soft  oval  of  her  face  the  smile  faded,  but 
her  voice  was  still  carelessly  gay : 

"  And  so  he  went  away.  But,  concerning  his  nymph, 
Calypso,  further  Homer  sayeth  not.  Yet — in  the  im 
mortal  verse  it  chanced  to  be  he,  not  she,  who  was — 
married.  .  .  .  And  I  think  I'll  retire  now — if  you  have 
nothing  more  agreeable  to  say  to  me " 

"  I  have ;  in  the  garden " 

"  No,  I  dare  not  risk  it  to-night.  The  guards  are 
about " 

"  It  is  my  last  night  here " 

"  We  will  see  each  other  very  soon  in  New  York. 
And  I'll  be  up  in  the  morning  to  drive  you  to  the 
station " 

"  But,  Shiela,  dear " 

''  There  was  a  bad  nigger  hanging  around  the  groves 
last  night  and  our  patrols  are  out.  .  .  .  No,  it's  too 
risky.  Besides " 

"Besides— what?" 

"  I've  been  thinking." 

He  said,  tenderly  impatient: 

"You  little  witch  of  Ogygia,  come  into  the  patio 
then,  and  do  your  thinking  and  let  me  make  love  to  you." 

But  she  would  not  raise  her  eyes,  standing  there 
20  295 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


in  the  rose  lamplight,  the  perverse  smile  still  edging  her 
lips. 

"  Calypso,"  he  repeated  persuasively. 

"  No.  .  .  .  Besides,  I  have  nothing  to  offer  you, 
Ulysses.  .  .  .  You  remember  what  the  real  Calypso  of 
fered  the  real  Ulysses  if  he'd  remain  with  her  in 
Ogygia?  " 

"  Eternal  youth  and  love  ?  "  He  bent  over  the  table, 
moving  his  hand  to  cover  hers  where  it  rested  in  the 
lamplight.  "  You  have  given  me  eternity  in  love  al 
ready,"  he  said. 

"  Have  I?  "  But  she  would  not  lift  her  eyes.  .  .  . 
"  Then  why  make  love  to  me  if  you  have  it  ready-made 
for  you  ?  " 

"  Will  you  come?  " 

And  she,  quoting  the  Odyssey  again: 

"  Swear,  then,  thou  mean'st  not  what  my  soul  forebodes  ; 
Swear  by  the  solemn  oath  that  binds  the  gods  !  " 

And  in  turn  he  quoted : 

"  Loved  and  adored,  O  goddess  as  thou  art, 
Forgive  the  weakness  of  a  human  heart." 

But  she  said  with  gay  audacity,  "  I  have  nothing 
to  forgive  you — yet." 

"  Are  you  challenging  me?  Because  I  am  likely  to 
take  you  into  my  arms  at  any  moment  if  you  are." 

"  Not  here — Garry !  "•  — looking  up  in  quick  con 
cern,  for  his  recklessness  at  times  dismayed  her.  Con 
sidering  him  doubtfully  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
was  safe,  and  her  little  chin  went  up  in  defiance. 

"  The  hammock's  in  the  patio"  he  said. 

"There's  moonlight  there,  too.     No,  thank  you — 


PERIL 

with  Cissy  wakeful  and  her  windows  commanding  every 
nook!  .  .  .  Besides — as  I  told  you,  I've  been  think 
ing." 

"  And  what  have  you  concluded?  " 

Delicate  straight  nose  in  the  air,  eyebrows  arched 
in  airy  disdain,  she  stood  preoccupied  with  some  little 
inward  train  of  thought  that  alternately  made  grave 
and  gay  the  upcurled  corners  of  her  lips. 

"  About  this  question  of — ah — love-making — " 
dropping  her  eyes  in  pretence  of  humility. 

"  It  is  no  longer  a  question,  you  know." 

She  would  not  look  up ;  her  lashes  seemed  to  rest  on 
the  bloom  of  the  rounded  cheek  as  though  the  lids  were 
shut,  but  there  came  from  the  shadows  between  the  lids 
a  faint  glimmer ;  and  he  thought  of  that  first  day  when 
from  her  lifted  gaze  a  thousand  gay  little  demons 
seemed  to  laugh  at  him. 

"  I've  been  thinking,"  she  remarked,  "  that  this  ques 
tion  of  making  love  to  me  should  be  seriously  discussed." 

"  That's  what  I've  been  asking  you  to  do  in  the 
patio " 

"  I've  been  thinking,  with  deep  but  rather  tardy 
concern,  that  it  is  not  the  best  policy  for  me  to  be — 
courted — any  more." 

She  glanced  up ;  her  entire  expression  had  suddenly 
altered  to  a  gravity  unmistakable. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Can  you  tell  me?  I  ask  you,  Garry,  what  has 
happened?  " 

"  I  don't  understand " 

"  Nor  I.  ...  Because  that  little  fool  you  kissed — 
so  many,  many  centuries  ago — is  not  this  disillusioned 
woman  who  is  standing  here!  .  .  .  May  I  be  a  little 
bit  serious  with  you?  " 

297 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Of  course,"  he  said,  amused ;  "  come  out  on  the 
east  balcony  and  tell  me  what  troubles  you." 

She  considered  him,  smilingly  suspicious  of  his 
alacrity. 

"  I  don't  think  we  had  better  go  to  the  balcony." 
"  Shiela,   can't  you   ever   get   over  being   ashamed 
when  I  make  love  to  you?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  get  over  it,  Garry." 
"  Are  you  still  afraid  to  let  me  love  you?  " 
Her  mouth  curved  gravely  as  a  perplexed  child's; 
she  looked  down  at  the  table  where  his  sun-burnt  hand 
now  lay  lightly  across  hers. 

"  I  wished  to  speak  to  you  about  myself — if,  some 
how  you  could  help  me  to  say  what — what  is  very  diffi 
cult  for  a  girl  to  say  to  a  man — even  when  she  loves 
him.  ...  I  don't  think  I  can  say  it,  but  I'll  try." 

"  Then  if  yuu'll  come  to  the  balcony " 

"  No,  I  can't  trust  you — or  myself — unless  we  prom 
ise  each  other." 

"  Have  I  got  to  do  that  again  ?  " 
"  Yes,  if  I  am  to  go  with  you.    I  promise !   Do  you?  " 
"  If  I  must,"  he  said  with  very  bad  grace — so  un 
graciously  in  fact  that  as  they  passed  from  the  eastern 
corridor  on  to  the  Spanish  balcony  she  forgot  her  own 
promise  and  slipped  her  hand  into  his  in  half-humour 
ous,  half-tender  propitiation. 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  disagreeable  to  me,  Garry?  " 

"  You  darling !  "  he  said ;  and,  laughing,  yet  secretly 

dismayed  at  her  own  perversion,  she  hurriedly  untwisted 

her  fingers  from  his  and  made  a  new  and  fervid  promise 

to  replace  the  one  just  broken. 

The  moonlight  was  magnificent,  silvering  forest, 
dune,  and  chaparral.  Far  to  the  east  a  thin  straight 
gleam  revealed  the  sea. 

298 


PERIL 

She  seated  herself  under  the  wall,  lying  back  against 
it ;  he  lay  extended  on  the  marble  shelf  beside  her,  study 
ing  the  moonlight  on  her  face. 

"  What  was  it  you  had  to  tell  me,  Shiela?  Re 
member  I  am  going  in  the  morning." 

"  I've  turned  cowardly ;  I  pannot  tell  you.  .  .  .  Per 
haps  later.  .  .  .  Look  at  the  Seminole  moon,  Garry. 
They  have  such  a  pretty  name  for  it  in  March — 
Tau-sau-tchusi — '  Little  Spring  Moon  '  !  And  in  May 
they  call  it  the  '  Mulberry  Moon  ' — Kee-hassi,  and  in 
November  it  is  a  charming  name — Hee-wu-li — '  Fall 
ing  Leaf  Moon  '  ! — and  August  is  Hyothlucco — '  Big 
Ripening  Moon.'  .  .  .  Garry,  this  moonlight  is  filling 
my  veins  with  quicksilver.  I  feel  very  restless,  very 
heathenish."  .  .  .  She  cast  a  slanting  side-glance  at 
him,  lips  parting  with  soundless  laughter;  and  in  the 
witchery  of  the  moon  she  seemed  exquisitely  unreal, 
head  tipped  back,  slender  throat  and  shoulders  snow- 
white  in  the  magic  lustre  that  enveloped  them. 

Resting  one  bare  arm  on  the  marble  she  turned,  chin 
on  shoulder,  looking  mischievously  down  at  him,  lovely, 
fresh,  perfect  as  the  Cherokee  roses  that  spread  their 
creamy,  flawless  beauty  across  the  wall  behind  her. 

Imperceptibly  her  expression  changed  to  soft  friend 
liness,  to  tenderness,  to  a  hint  of  deeper  emotion;  and 
her  lids  drooped  a  little,  then  opened  gravely  under  the 
quick  caress  of  his  eyes ;  and  very  gently  she  moved  her 
head  from  side  to  side  as  reminder  and  refusal. 

"  Another  man's  wife,"  she  said  deliberately.  .  .  . 
"  Thy  neighbour's  wife.  .  .  .  That's  what  we've  done !  " 

Like  a  cut  of  a  whip  her  words  brought  him  up 
right  to  confront  her,  his  blood  tingling  on  the  quick 
edge  of  anger. 

For  always,  deep  within  him,  lay  that  impotent  anger 
299 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


latent;  always  his  ignorance  of  this  man  haunted  hint 
like  the  aftermath  of  an  ugly  dream.  But  of  the  man 
himself  she  had  never  spoken  since  that  first  day  in  the 
wilderness.  And  then  she  had  not  named  him. 

Her  face  had  grown  very  serious,  but  her  eyes  re 
mained  unfathomable  under  his  angry  gaze. 

"  Is  there  any  reason  to  raise  that  spectre  between 
us  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Dear,  has  it  ever  been  laid  ?  "  she  asked  sorrow 
fully. 

The  muscles  in  his  cheeks  tightened  and  his  eyes 
narrowed  unpleasantly.  Only  the  one  feature  saved  the 
man  from  sullen  commonness  in  his  suppressed  anger — 
and  that  was  his  boyish  mouth,  clean,  sweet,  noblj 
moulded,  giving  the  lie  to  the  baffled  brutality  gleam 
ing  in  the  eyes.  And  the  spark  died  out  as  it  had 
come,  subdued,  extinguished  when  he  could  no  longer 
sustain  the  quiet  surprise  of  her  regard. 

"  How  very,  very  young  you  are  after  all,"  she  said 
gently.  "  Come  nearer.  Lift  your  sulky,  wicked  head. 
Now  ask  my  pardon  for  not  understanding." 

"  I  ask  it.  ...  But  when  you  speak  of  him " 

**  Hush.  He  is  only  a  shadow  to  you — scarce!/ 
more  to  me.  Pie  must  remain  so..  Do  you  not  under 
stand  that  I  wish  him  to  remain  a  shadow  to  you — a 
thing  without  substance — without  a  name?  " 

He  bent  his  head,  nodding  almost  imperceptibly. 

"Garry?" 

He  looked  up  in  response. 

"  There  is  something  else — if  I  could  only  say  it. 
...  I  might  if  you  would  close  your  eyes."  .  .  .  She 
hesitated,  half-fearful,  then  drew  his  head  down  on  her 
knees,  daintily,  using  her  finger-tips  only  in  the  opera 
tion. 

300 


PERIL 

"  Are  you  listening1  to  what  I  am  trying  to  tell 
you?  " 

"  Yes,  very  intently." 

"  Then — it's  about  my  being  afraid — of  love.  .  .  . 
Are  you  listening?  ...  It  is  very  difficult  for  me  to 
say  this.  ...  It  is  about  my  being  afraid.  ...  I  used 
to  be  when  I  did  not  know  enough  to  be.  And  now, 
Garry,  when  I  am  less  ignorant  than  I  was — when  I 
have  divined  enough  of  my  unknown  self  to  be  afraid 
— dearest,  I  am  not." 

She  bent  gently  above  the  boyish  head  lying  face 
downward  on  her  knees — waited  timidly  for  some  re 
sponse,  touched  his  hair. 

"  I  am  listening,"  he  nodded. 

She  said :  "  My  will  to  deny  you,  my  courage  to  con 
trol  myself  seem  to  be  waning.  I  love  you  so;  and  it 
is  becoming  so  much  worse,  such  a  blind,  unreasoning 
love.  .  .  .  And — do  you  think  it  will  grow  so  much 
worse  that  I  could  be  capable  of  anything  ignoble? 
Do  you  think  I  might  be  mad  enough  to  beg  my 
freedom?  I — I  don't  know  where  it  is  leading  me, 
dear.  Do  you?  It  is  that  which  bewilders  me — 
that  I  should  love  you  so — that  I  should  not  be 
afraid  to  love  you  so.  ...  Hush,  dear!  Don't  speak 
— for  I  shall  never  be  able  to  tell  you  this  if  you 
speak,  or  look  at  me.  And  I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question.  May  I?  And  will  you  keep  your  eyes 
covered  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then — there  are  memories  which  burn  my  cheeks 
— hush ! — I  do  not  regret  them.  .  .  .  Only,  what  am  I 
changing  into  that  I  am  capable  of  forgetting — every 
thing — in  the  happiness  of  consenting  to  things  I  never 
dreamed  of — like  this  " — bending  and  laying  her  lips 

301 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


softly  against  his  cheek.  ..."  That  was  wrong ;  it 
ought  to  frighten  me.  But  it  does  not." 

He  turned,  looking  up  into  the  flushed  young  face 
and  drew  it  closer  till  their  cheeks  touched. 

"  Don't  look  at  me !  Why  do  you  let  me  drift  like 
this?  It  is  madness — to  give  up  to  each  other  the  way 
we  do " 

"  I  wish  we  could  give  up  the  world  for  each 
other." 

"  I  wish  so  too.  I  would — except  for  the  others. 
Do  you  suppose  I'd  hesitate  if  it  were  not  for  them  ?  " 

They  looked  at  each  other  with  a  new  and  subtler 
audacity. 

"  You  see,"  she  said  with  a  wistful  smile,  "  this  is 
not  Shiela  Cardross  who  sits  here  smiling  into  those 
brown  eyes  of  yours.  I  think  I  died  before  you  ever 
saw  me ;  and  out  of  the  sea  and  the  mist  that  day  some 
changeling  crept  into  your  boat  for  your  soul's  un 
doing.  Do  you  remember  in  Ingoldsby — '  The  ci- 
devant  daughter  of  the  old  Plantagenet  line '?  " 

They  laughed  like  children. 

"  Do  you  think  our  love-tempted  souls  are  in  any 
peril?  "  he  asked  lightly. 

The  question  arrested  her  mirth  so  suddenly  that 
he  thought  she  must  have  misunderstood. 

"  What  is  it,  Shiela  ?  "  he  inquired,  surprised. 

"  Garry — will  you  tell  me  something — if  you  can  ? 
.  .  .  Then,  what  does  it  mean,  the  saying — '  souls  lost 
through  love  '  ?  Does  it  mean  what  we  have  done  ? — 
because  I  am  married?  Would  people  think  our  souls 
lost — if  they  knew  ?  " 

"  No,  you  blessed  child  !  " 

"  Well,  how  can " 

"  It's  a  lie  anyway,"  he  said.  "  Nothing  is  lost 
802 


PERIL 

through  love.  It  is  something  very  different  they 
mean." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  calmly,  "  something  quite  incon 
ceivable,  like  '  Faust '  and  '  The  Scarlet  Letter.'  .  .  . 
I  thought  that  was  what  they  meant !  " 

Brooding  over  him,  silent,  pensive,  clear  eyes  fear 
lessly  meeting  his,  she  drifted  into  guiltless  retrospection. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  "  except  for  letting  everybody 
know  that  we  belong  to  each  other  this  is  practically 
like  marriage.  Look  at  that  honeymoon  up  there, 
Garry.  ...  If,  somehow,  they  could  think  we  are  en 
gaged,  and  would  let  us  alone  for  the  rest  of  our  lives, 
it  would  not  matter.  .  .  .  Except  I  should  like  to  have 
a  house  alone  with  you." 

And  she  stooped,  resting  her  cheek  lightly  against 
his,  eyes  vaguely  sweet  in  the  moonlight. 

"  I  love  you  so,"  she  murmured,  as  though  to  her 
self,  "  and  there  seems  no  end  to  it.  It  is  such  a  hope 
less  sequence  when  yesterday's  love  becomes  to-day's 
adoration  and  to-morrow's  worship.  What  am  I 
to  do?  What  is  the  use  of  saying  I  am  not  free  to 
love  you,  when  I  do  ?  "  She  smiled  dreamily.  "  I  was 
silly  enough  to  think  it  impossible  once.  Do  you  re 
member  ?  " 

"  You  darling !  "  he  whispered,  adoring  her  inno 
cence.  Then  as  he  lay,  head  cradled  on  her  knees,  look 
ing  up  at  her,  all  unbidden,  a  vision  of  the  future  in  its 
sharp-cut  ominous  desolation  flashed  into  his  vision — 
the  world  without  her! — the  endless  stretch  of  time — 
youth  with  no  meaning,  effort  wasted,  attainment  with 
out  desire,  loneliness,  arid,  terrible  days  unending. 

"  It  is  too — too  senseless !  "  he  breathed,  stumbling 
to  his  feet  as  the  vague,  scarcely  formulated  horror  of  it 
suddenly  turned  keen  and  bit  into  him  as  he  began  to 

303 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


realise  for  the  first  time  something  of  what  it  threat 
ened. 

"  What  is  it,  Garry  ?  "  she  asked  in  gentle  concern, 
as  he  stood  looking  darkly  at  her.  "  Is  it  time  to  go  ? 
You  are  tired,  I  know."  She  rose  and  opened  the  great 
glass  doors.  "  You  poor  tired  boy,"  she  whispered,  wait 
ing  for  him.  And  as  he  did  not  stir:  "What  is  the 
matter,  Garry  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  am  trying  to  understand  that  our 
winter  is  ended." 

She  nodded.  "  Mother  and  Gray  and  Cecile  and  I 
go  North  in  April.  ...  I  wish  we  might  stay  through 
May — that  is,  if  you — "  She  looked  at  him  in  silent 
consternation.  "  Where  will  you  be !  " 

He  said  in  a  sullen  voice :  "  That  is  what  I  was  think 
ing  of — our  separation.  .  .  .  Do  you  realise  that  it  is 
almost  here?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  faintly,  "  I  cannot." 

He  moved  forward,  opening  the  glass  doors  wider ; 
she  laid  one  hand  on  his  arm  as  though  to  guide  herself ; 
but  the  eastern  corridors  were  bright  with  moonlight, 
every  corner  illuminated. 

They  were  very  silent  until  they  turned  into  the 
south  corridor  and  reached  her  door ;  and  there  he  sud 
denly  gave  way  to  his  passionate  resentment,  breaking 
out  like  a  spoiled  boy: 

"  Shiela,  I  tell  you  it's  going  to  be  unendurable ! 
There  must  be  some  way  out,  some  chance  for  us.  .  .  . 
I  don't  mean  to  ask  you  to  do  what  is — what  you  con 
sider  dishonourable.  You  wouldn't  do  it  anyway, 
whether  or  not  I  asked  you " 

"  But  don't  ask  me,"  she  said,  turning  very  white. 
"  I  don't  know  what  I  am  capable  of  if  I  should  ever 
see  you  suffer !  " 

304 


PERIL 

"  You  couldn't  do  it !  "  he  repeated ;  "  it  isn't  in  you 
to  take  your  happiness  at  their  expense,  is  it?  You  say 
you  know  how  they  would  feel ;  I  don't.  But  if  you're 
asking  for  an  annulment " 

"  What?    Do  you  mean  divorce?  " 

"No.  .  .  .  That  is— diff  erent " 

"  But  what " 

"  You  dear,"  he  said,  suddenly  gentle,  "  you  have 
never  been  a — wife ;  and  you  don't  know  it." 

"  Garry,  are  you  mad  ?  " 

"  Shiela,  dear,  some  day  will  you  very  quietly  ask 
some  woman  the  difference  between  divorce  and  annul 
ment?" 

"  Y-yes,  if  you  wish.  ...  Is  it  something  you 
mayn't  tell  me,  Garry  ?  " 

"  Yes.  ...  I  don't  know !  You  sometimes  make 
me  feel  as  though  I  could  tell  you  anything.  .  .  ,  Of 
course  I  couldn't  .  .  .  you  darling ! "  He  stepped 
nearer.  "  You  are  so  good  and  sweet,  so  utterly  beyond 
evil,  or  the  vaguest  thought  of  it " 

"  Garry — I  am  not !    And  you  know  it !  " 

He  only  laughed  at  her. 

"  You  don't  think  I  am  a  horrid  sort  of  saint,  do 
you?" 

"  No,  not  the  horrid  sort " 

"  Garry !  How  can  you  say  such  things  when  I'm 
half  ready  now  to  run  away  with  you !  " 

The  sudden  hint  of  fire  in  her  face  and  voice,  and 
something  new  in  her  eyes,  sobered  him. 

"  Now  do  you  know  what  I  am?  "  she  said,  breathing 
unevenly  and  watching  him.  "  Only  one  thing  keeps  me 
respectable.  I'd  go  with  you ;  I'd  live  in  rags  to  be  with 
you.  I  ask  nothing  in  the  world  or  of  the  world  except 
you.  You  could  make  me  what  you  pleased,  mould  me 

305 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


— mar   me,    I   believe — and    I   would   be   the   happiest 
woman  who  ever  loved.     That  is  your  saint !  " 

Flushed  with  her  swift  emotion,  she  stood  a  minute 
facing  him,  then  laid  her  hand  on  the  door  knob  behind 
her,  still  looking  him  in  the  eyes.  Behind  her  the  door 
slowly  swung  open  under  the  pressure. 

His  own  self-control  was  fast  going;  he  dared  not 
trust  himself  to  speak  lest  he  break  down  and  beg  for 
the  only  chance  that  her  loyalty  to  others  forbade 
her  to  take.  But  the  new  and  deeper  emotion  which 
she  had  betrayed  had  awakened  the  ever-kindling  im 
patience  in  him,  and  now,  afire,  he  stood  looking  des 
perately  on  all  he  must  for  ever  lose,  till  the  suffering 
seemed  unendurable  in  the  checked  violence  of  his 
revolt. 

"  Good  night,"  she  whispered  sorrowfully,  as  the 
shadow  deepened  on  his  altered  face. 

"  Are  you  going !  " 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  And,  somehow  I  feel  that  perhaps  it  is 
better  not  to — kiss  me  to-night.  When  I  see  you — this 
way — Garry,  I  could  find  it  in  me  to  do  anything — 
almost.  .  .  .  Good  night." 

Watching  him,  she  waited  in  silence  for  a  while,  then 
turned  slowly  and  lighted  the  tiny  night-lamp  on  the 
table  beside  her  bed. 

When  she  returned  to  the  open  door  there  was  no 
light  in  the  hall.     She  heard  him  moving  somewhere  in  [ 
the  distance. 

"  Where  are  you,  Garry  ?  " 

He  came  back  slowly  through  the  dim  corridor. 

"Were  you  going  without  a  word  to  me?"  she 
asked. 

He  came  nearer  and  leaned  against  the  doorway. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said  sullenly.    "  I've  been 
306 


^ PERIL 

a  fool  to  let  us  drift  in  this  way.     I  don't  know  where 
we're  headed  for,  and  it's  time  I  did." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " — in  soft  consternation. 

"  That  there  is  no  hope  left  for  us — and  that  we  are 
both  pretty  young,  both  in  love,  both  close  to  desperation. 
At  times  I  tell  you  I  feel  like  a  cornered  beast — feel  like 
showing  my  teeth  at  the  world — like  tearing  you  from 
it  at  any  cost.  I'd  do  it,  too,  if  it  were  not  for  your 
father  and  mother.  You  and  I  could  stand  it." 

"  I  would  let  you  do  it — if  it  were  not  for  them," 
she  said. 

They  looked  at  one  another,  both  pale. 

"  Would  you  give  up  the  whole  moral  show  for  me?  " 
he  demanded. 

"  Yes." 

"  You'd  get  a  first-rate  scoundrel." 

"  I  wouldn't  care  if  it  were  you." 

"  There's  one  thing,"  he  said  with  a  bluntness  bor 
dering  on  brutality,  "  all  this  is  changing  me  into  a  man 
unfit  to  touch  you.  I  warn  you." 

"What!"  " 

"  I  tell  you  not  to  trust  me !  "  he  said  almost  savage 
ly.  "  With  heart  and  soul  and  body  on  fire  for  you 
— mad  for  you — I'm  not  to  be  trusted !  " 

"And  I?"  she  faltered,  deadly  pale. 

"  You  don't  know  what  you're  saying ! "  he  said 
violently. 

"  I — I  begin  to  think  I  do.  .  .  .  Garry — Garry — I 
am  learning  very  fast !  .  .  .  How  can  I  let  you  go !  " 

"  The  idea  is,"  he  said  grimly,  "  for  me  to  go  before 
I  go  insane.  .  .  .  And  never  again  to  touch  you " 

"Why?" 

"Peril!"  he  said.  "I'm  just  a  plain  blackguard, 
Shiela." 

307 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Would  it  change  you  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Not  to  touch  me,  not  to  kiss  me.  Could  you  go  on 
always  just  loving  me?  ...  Because  if  you  could  not 
— through  the  years  that  are  coming — I — I  had  rather 
take  the  risk — with  you — than  lose  you." 

He  stood,  head  bent,  not  trusting  himself  to  speak 
or  look  at  her. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said  timidly. 

He  straightened  up,  stared  at  her,  and  turned  on  his 
heel,  saying  good  night  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Garry ! " 

"  Good-night,"  he  muttered,  passing  on. 

Her  heart  was  beating  so  violently  that  she  pressed 
her  hand  to  it,  leaning  against  the  door  sill. 

"  Garry !  "  she  faltered,  stretching  out  the  other 
hand  to  him  in  the  darkness,  "  I — I  do  not  care  about 
the — risk — if  you  care  to — kiss  me " 

He  swung  round  from  the  shadows  to  the  dimly 
lighted  sill ;  crossed  it.  For  a  moment  they  looked  into 
one  another's  eyes ;  then,  blinded,  she  swayed  impercep 
tibly  toward  him,  sighing  as  his  arms  tightened  and  her 
own  crept  up  around  his  neck. 

She  yielded,  resigning  lips,  and  lids,  and  throat,  and 
fragrant  hair,  and  each  slim  finger  in  caress  unending. 

Conscious  of  nothing  save  that  body  and  soul  were 
safe  in  his  beloved  keeping,  she  turned  to  him  in  all 
the  passion  of  a  guiltless  love,  whispering  her  adoration, 
her  faith,  her  trust,  her  worship  of  the  man  who  held 
her;  then,  adrift  once  more,  the  breathless  magic  over 
whelmed  her ;  and  she  drew  him  to  her,  closer,  desperately, 
hiding  her  head  on  his  breast. 

"  Take  me  away,  Garry,"  she  stammered — "  take  me 
with  you.  There  is  no  use — no  use  fighting  it  back.  I 

308 


PERIL 

shall  die  if  you  leave  me.  .  .  .  Will  you  take  me?  1 — 
I  will  be — everything  that — that  you  would  have  me — 
that  you  might  wish  for — in — in  a — wife " 

She  was  crying  now,  crying  her  heart  out,  her  face 
crushed  against  his  shoulder,  clinging  to  him  convul 
sively. 

"  Will  you  take  me,  Garry  ?  What  am  I  without 
you  ?  I  cannot  give  you  up !  I  will  not.  .  .  .  No 
body  can  ask  that  of  me — How  can  they  ask  that  of  me  ? 
— to  give  you  up — to  let  you  go  out  of  my  little  world 
for  ever — to  turn  from  you,  refuse  you!  .  .  .  What  a 
punishment  for  one  instant's  folly !  If  they  knew  they 
would  not  let  me  suffer  this  way! — They  would  want 
me  to  tell  them " 

His  dry  lips  unclosed.  "  Then  tell  them !  "  he  tried 
to  say,  but  the  words  were  without  sound;  and,  in  the 
crisis  of  temptation,  at  the  very  instant  of  yielding, 
suddenly  he  knew,  somehow,  that  he  would  not  yield. 

It  came  to  him  calmly,  without  surprise  or  shock, 
this  stupid  certainty  of  himself.  And  at  the  same  mo 
ment  the  crisis  was  passing,  leaving  him  stunned,  impas 
sive,  half  senseless  as  the  resurgent  passion  battered  at 
his  will  power,  to  wreck  and  undo  it — deafening,  im 
perative,  wave  on  wave,  in  vain. 

The  thing  to  do  was  to  hold  on.  One  of  them  was 
adrift ;  the  other  dared  not  let  go ;  he  seemed  to  realise 
it,  somehow.  Odd  bits  of  phrases,  old-fashioned  say 
ings,  maxims  long  obsolete  came  to  him  without  reason 
or  sequence — "  Greater  love  hath  no  man — no  man — 
no  man — "  and  "  As  ye  do  unto  the  least  of  these  " — 
odd  bits  of  phrases,  old-fashioned  sayings,  maxims, 
alas !  long  obsolete,  long  buried  with  the  wisdom  of  the 
dead. 

He  held  her  still  locked  in  his  arms.  From  time  to 
309 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


time,  unconsciously,  as  her  hot  grief  spent  itself,  he 
bent  his  head,  laying  his  face  against  hers,  while  his 
haggard,  perplexed  gaze  wandered  about  the  room. 

In  the  dimness  the  snowy  bed  loomed  beside  them; 
pink  roses  patterned  curtain  and  wall;  the  tiny  night- 
light  threw  a  roseate  glow  across  her  gown.  In  the 
fresh,  sweet  stillness  of  the  room  there  was  no  sound 
or  stir  save  their  uneven  breathing. 

Very  gently  he  lifted  one  of  her  hands  and  looked 
at  it  almost  curiously — this  small  white  hand  so  inno 
cently  smooth — as  unblemished  as  a  child's — this  un 
sullied  little  hand  that  for  an  instant  seemed  to  be  slowly 
relaxing  its  grasp  on  the  white  simplicity  around  her 
— here  in  this  dim,  fresh,  fragrant  world  of  hers,  called, 
intimately,  her  room. 

And  here  where  night  and  morning  had  so  long 
held  sacred  all  that  he  cared  for  upon  earth — here  in 
the  white  symbol  of  the  world — her  room — he  gave  him 
self  again  to  her,  without  a  word,  without  hope,  know 
ing  the  end  of  all  was  near  for  them. 

But  it  was  she,  not  he,  who  must  make  the  sign  that 
ended  all.  And,  after  a  long,  long  time,  as  she  made 
no  sign: 

"  Dearest,"  he  breathed,  "  I  know  now  that  you  will 
never  go  with  me — for  your  father's  sake." 

That  was  premature,  for  she  only  clung  the  closer. 
He  waited  cautiously,  every  instinct  alert,  his  head  close 
to  hers.  And  at  last  the  hot  fragrance  of  her  tears 
announced  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

"  Shiela?  " 

A  stifled  sound  from  his  shoulder  where  her  head 
lay  buried. 

"  Choose  now,"  he  said. 

No  answer. 

310 


PERIL 

"  Choose." 

She  cowered  in  his  arms.  He  looked  at  the  little 
hand  once  more,  no  longer  limp  but  clenched  against 
his  breast.  And  he  knew  that  the  end  was  close  at 
hand,  and  he  spoke  again,  forcing  her  to  her  victory. 

"  Dearest,  you  must  choose " 

"  Garry !  " 

"  Between  those  others — and  me " 

She  shrank  out  of  his  arms,  turned  with  a  sob, 
swayed,  and  sank  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  burying 
her  head  in  her  crossed  arms. 

This  was  her  answer ;  and  with  it  he  went  away  into 
the  darkness,  reeling,  groping,  while  every  pulse  in  him 
hammered  ironic  salutation  to  the  victor  who  had 
loved  too  well  to  win.  And  in  his  whirling  brain 
sounded  the  mocking  repetition  of  his  own  words: 
"  Nothing  is  lost  through  love !  Nothing  is  lost — 
nothing — nothing !  " — flouting,  taunting  him  who  had 
lost  love  itself  there  on  the  firing  line,  for  a  comrade's 
sake. 

His  room  was  palely  luminous  with  the  lustre  of 
the  night.  On  the  mantel  squatted  a  little  wizened  and 
gilded  god  peering  and  leering  at  him  through  the 
shadows — Malcourt's  parting  gift — the  ugliest  of  the 
nineteen. 

"  For,"  said  Malcourt — "  there  ought  to  be  only 
eighteen  by  rights — unless  further  complications  arise; 
and  this  really  belongs  to  you,  anyway." 

So  he  left  the  thing  on  Hamil's  mantel,  although  the 
latter  had  no  idea  what  Malcourt  meant,  or  why  he  made 
the  parting  offering. 

Now  he  stood  there  staring  at  it  like  a  man  whose 
senses  waver,  and  who  fixes  some  object  to  steady  nerve 
and  brain. 

21  311 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Far  in  the  night  the  voice  of  the  ocean  stirred  the 
silence — the  ocean  which  had  given  her  to  him  that  day 
in  the  golden  age  of  fable  when  life  and  the  world  were 
young  together,  and  love  wore  a  laughing  mask. 

He  listened ;  all  the  night  was  sighing  with  the  sigh 
,  of  the  surf;  and  the  breeze  in  the  trees  mourned;  and 
the  lustre  died  out  in  thickening  darkness  as  he  stood 
there,  listening. 

Then  all  around  him  through  the  hushed  obscurity 
a  vague  murmur  grew,  accentless,  sad,  interminable; 
and  through  the  monotone  of  the  falling  rain  he  heard 
the  ocean  very  far  away  washing  the  body  of  a  young 
world  dead  to  him  for  ever. 

Crouched  low  beside  her  bed,  face  quivering  in  her 
arms,  she  heard,  in  the  stillness,  the  call  of  the  sea — 
that  enchanted  sea  which  had  given  him  to  her  that  day, 
when  Time  and  the  World  were  young  together  in  the 
blessed  age  of  dreams. 

And  she  heard  the  far  complaint  of  the  surf,  break 
ing  unsatisfied ;  and  a  strange  wind  flowing  through  the 
trees;  then  silence,  suspense;  and  the  world's  dark  void 
slowly  filling  with  the  dreadful  monotone  of  the  rain. 

Storm  after  storm  of  agony  and  doubt  swept  her; 
she  prayed  convulsively,  at  random,  reiterating  inco- 
i  herence  in  blind,  frightened  repetition  till  the  stupefy 
ing  sequence  lost  all  meaning. 

Exhausted,  half -senseless,  her  hands  still  clung  to 
gether,  her  tear-swollen  lips  still  moved  to  form  his 
name,  asking  God's  mercy  on  them  both.  But  the  end 
had  come. 

Yes,  the  end;  she  knew  it  now — understood  what 
had  happened,  what  must  be.  And,  knowing,  she  heard 


PERIL 


the  sea-rain  whispering  their  judgment,  and  the  winds 
repeating  it  across  the  wastes. 

She  raised  her  head,  dumb,  rigid,  listening,  and 
stared  through  the  shaking  window  into  obscurity. 
Lightning  flickered  along  the  rim  of  the  world — a  pal 
lid  threat  above  the  sea — the  sea  which  had  given  them 
to  one  another  and  left  them  stranded  in  each  other's 
arms  there  on  the  crumbling  edges  of  destruction. 

Her  strained  eyes  divined,  her  straining  senses  com 
prehended ;  she  cringed  lower,  aghast,  swaying  under 
the  menace,  then  fell  prone,  head  buried  in  her  tumbled 
hair. 

In  the  morning  he  left  for  the  North  and  Portlaw's 
camp.  Gray  drove  him  to  the  station;  Cecile,  in  dis- 
tractingly  pretty  negligee  waved  him  audacious  adieu 
from  her  window. 

"  Shiela  seems  to  be  ill,"  explained  Gray,  as  the 
motor  car  shot  out  into  the  haze  of  early  morning. 
"  She  asked  me  to  say  good-bye  for  her.  ...  I  say, 
Hamil,  you're  looking  rather  ill  yourself.  This  climate 
is  sure  to  get  a  white  man  sooner  or  later,  if  he  remains 
too  long.  But  the  North  will  put  you  into  condition. 
You're  going  straight  to  Portlaw's  camp  on  Luckless 
Lake?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Hamil  listlessly. 

"  Well,  we'll  be  in  New  York  in  a  week  or  two. 
You'll  surely  look  us  up  when  you're  in  town,  won't 
you?  And  write  me  a  line  about  Acton  and  father — • 
won't  you?" 

"  Surety,"  nodded  Hamil  absently. 

And  they  sped  on,  the  vast  distorted  shadow  of  tba 

racing  beside  them  to  the  station. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE    LINE    OF    BATTLE 

PORTLAW'S  camp  in  the  southern  foot-hills  of  tha 
Adirondacks  was  as  much  a  real  camp  as  the  preten 
tious  constructions  at  Newport  are  real  cottages.  A 
modesty,  akin  to  smugness,  designates  them  all  with 
Heep-like  humbleness  under  a  nomenclature  now  tol 
erated  through  usage ;  and,  from  the  photographs 
sent  him,  Hamil  was  very  much  disgusted  to  find  a 
big,  handsome  two-story  house,  solidly  constructed  of 
timber  and  native  stone,  dominating  a  clearing  in 
the  woods,  and  distantly  flanked  by  the  superintendent's 
pretty  cottage,  the  guides'  quarters,  stables,  kennels, 
coach-houses,  and  hothouses  with  various  auxiliary 
buildings  still  farther  away  within  the  sombre  circle  of 
the  surrounding  pines. 

To  this  aggravation  of  elaborate  structures  Port- 
law,  in  a  spasm  of  modesty,  had  given  the  name  of 
"  Camp  Chickadee " ;  and  now  he  wanted  to  stultify 
the  remainder  of  his  domain  with  concrete  terraces^ 
bridges,  lodges,  and  Gothic  towers  in  various  and  pleas 
ing  stages  of  ruin. 

So  Hamil's  problem  presented  itself  as  one  of  those 
annoyingly  simple  ones,  entirely  dependent  upon  Port- 
law  and  good  taste ;  and  Portlaw  had  none. 

He  had,  however,  some  thirty  thousand  acres  of 
woods  and  streams  and  lakes  fenced  in  with  a  twelve- 

314 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

foot  barrier  of  cattle-proof  wire — partly  a  noble  vir 
gin  wilderness  unmarred  by  man-trails;  partly  com 
posed  of  lovely  second  growth  scarcely  scarred  by  that 
vile  spoor  which  is  the  price  Nature  pays  for  the  white- 
hided  invaders  who  walk  erect,  when  not  too  drunk, 
and  who  foul  and  smear  and  stain  and  desolate  water 
,and  earth  and  air  around  them. 

Why  Portlaw  desired  to  cut  his  wilderness  into  a 
mincing  replica  of  some  emasculated  British  royal  for 
est  nobody  seemed  able  to  explain.  While  at  Palm 
Beach  he  had  made  two  sage  observations  to  Hamil  con 
cerning  the  sacredness  of  trees ;  one  was  that  there  are 
no  trees  in  a  Scotch  deer  forest,  which  proved  to  his 
satisfaction  that  trees  are  unnecessary;  the  other  em 
bodied  his  memories  of  seeing  a  herd  of  calf-like  fallow 
deer  decorating  the  grass  under  the  handsome  oaks  and 
beeches  of  some  British  nobleman's  park. 

Why  Portlaw  concerned  himself  at  all  with  his  wild, 
out-world  domain  was  a  mystery,  too;  for  he  admitted 
that  he  spent  almost  all  day  playing  cards  indoors  or 
contriving  with  his  cook  some  new  and  succulent  ex 
periment  in  the  gastronomical  field. 

Sometimes  he  cast  a  leaden  eye  outdoors  when  his 
dogs  were  exercised  from  the  kennel;  rarely,  and 
always  unwillingly,  he  followed  Malcourt  to  the  hatch 
ery  to  watch  the  stripping,  or  to  the  exotic  pheas- 
antry  to  inspect  the  breeding  of  birds  entirely  out  of 
place  in  sucli  a  climate. 

He  did  like  to  see  a  fat  deer ;  the  fatter  the  better ; 
he  was  accustomed,  too,  to  poke  his  thumb  into  the 
dead  plumage  of  a  plump  grouse  when  Malcourt's  men 
laid  out  the  braces,  on  which  he  himself  never  drew 
trigger;  and  which  interested  him  only  when  on  the 
table. 

315 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


He  wanted  plenty  of  game  and  fish  on  the  place 
for  that  reason ;  he  wanted  his  guests  to  shoot  and  fish 
for  that  reason,  too.  Otherwise  he  cared  nothing  for 
his  deer,  his  grouse,  and  his  trout.  And  why  he  sud 
denly  had  been  bitten  with  a  mania  for  "  improving  " 
the  flawless  wilderness  about  him,  even  Malcourt  did 
not  know. 

Hamil,  therefore,  was  prepared  for  a  simple  yet 
difficult  problem — to  do  as  little  harm  to  the  place 
as  possible,  and  to  appease  Portlaw  at  the  same 
time,  and  curb  his  meddlesome  and  iconoclastic  pro 
clivities. 

Spring  had  begun  early  in  the  North;  shallow 
snows  were  fading  from  the  black  forest  soil  along  the 
streams'  edges,  and  from  the  pebbled  shores  of  every 
little  lake ;  already  the  soft  ice  was  afloat  on  pool  and 
pond;  muskrats  swam;  the  eggs  of  the  woodcock  were 
beginning  their  chilly  incubation;  and  in  one  shel 
tered  spring-hole  behind  the  greenhouse  Malcourt  dis 
covered  a  solemn  frog  afloat.  It  takes  only  a  single 
frog  to  make  the  spring-time. 

That  week  the  trailing  fragrance  of  arbutus  hung 
over  wet  hollows  along  the  hills ;  and  at  night,  high  in 
the  starlight,  the  thrilling  clangour  of  wild  geese  rang 
out — the  truest  sky-music  of  the  North  among  all  the 
magic  folk-songs  of  the  wild. 

The  anchor-ice  let  go  and  went  out  early,  and  a  j 
few  pioneer  trout  jumped  that  week;  the  cock-grouse, 
magnificent    in    his    exquisite    puffed    ruff,    paced    the 
black-wet    drumming   log,    and    the   hollow   woodlands 
throbbed  all  day  with  his  fairy  drumming. 

On  hard-wood  ridges  every  sugar-bush  ran  sap ;  the 
aroma  from  fire  and  kettle  sweetened  the  air;  a  few 
battered,  hibernating  butterflies  crawled  out  of  cracks 

316 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

and  crannies  and  sat  on  the  sap-pans  sunning  their 
scarlet-banded  wings. 

And  out  of  the  hot  South  into  the  fading  silver 
of  this  chill  Northern  forest-world  came  Hamil,  sun 
burned,  sombre-eyed,  silent. 

Malcourt  met  him  at  Pride's  Fall  with  a  buckboard 
and  a  pair  of  half-broken  little  Morgans ;  and  away 
they  tore  into  the  woods,  scrambling  uphill,  plunging 
downhill,  running  away  most  of  the  time  to  the  secret 
satisfaction  of  Malcourt,  who  cared  particularly  for 
what  was  unsafe  in  life. 

He  looked  sideways  at  Hamil  once  or  twice,  and,  a 
trifle  disappointed  that  the  pace  seemed  to  suit  him, 
let  the  little  horses  out. 

"  Bad  thing  to  meet  a  logging  team,"  he  observed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Hamil  absently.  So  Malcourt  let  the 
horses  run  away  when  they  cared  to ;  they  needed  it 
and  he  enjoyed  it.  Besides  there  were  never  any  log 
ging  teams  on  that  road. 

Malcourt  inquired  politely  concerning  the  Villa 
Cardross  and  its  occupants;  Hamil  answered  in  gen 
eralities. 

"  You've  finished  there,  then  !  " 

"  Practically.  I  may  go  down  in  the  autumn  to 
look  it  over  once  more." 

"  Is  Cardross  going  to  put  in  the  Schwarzwald 
pigs?" 

"  Yes ;  they're  ordered." 

"  Portlaw  wants  some  here.  I'd  give  ten  dollars, 
poor  as  I  am,  if  I  could  get  Portlaw  out  in  the  snow 
and  fully  occupied  with  an  irritated  boar." 

"Under  such  circumstances  one  goes  up  a  tree?" 
inquired  Hamil,  smiling. 

"  One  does  if  one  is  not  too  fat  and  can  shed  snow- 
317 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


shoes  fast  enough.  Otherwise  one  keeps  on  shooting 
one's  45-70.  By  the  way,  you  were  in  New  York  for 
a  day  or  two.  How's  the  market?  " 

"  Sagging." 

"Money?" 

"  Scarce.  I  saw  Mr.  Cardross  and  Acton  Carrick. 
Nobody  seems  enthusiastic  over  the  prospect.  While 
there  are  no  loans  being  called  there  are  few  being 
made.  I  heard  rumours  of  course ;  a  number  of  banks 
and  trust  companies  are  getting  themselves  whispered 
about.  Outside  of  that  I  don't  know,  Malcourt, 
because  I  haven't  much  money  and  what  I  have  is 
on  deposit  with  the  Shoshone  Securities  Company 
pending  a  chance  for  some  safe  and  attractive  invest 
ment." 

"  That's  Cardross,  Carrick  &  Co." 

"  Yes."  And  as  they  whirled  into  the  clearing  and 
the  big,  handsome  house  came  into  view  he  smiled :  "  Is 
this  Camp  Chickadee?" 

"  Yes,  and  yonder's  my  cottage  on  Luckless  Lake 
— a  nice  name,"  added  Malcourt,  "  but  Portlaw  says  it's 
safer  to  leave  the  name  as  it  stands  than  to  provoke 
the  gods  with  boastful  optimism  by  changing  it  to 
Lucky  Lake.  Oh,  it's  a  gay  region;  Lake  Desolation 
lies  just  beyond  that  spur;  Lake  Eternity  east  of  us; 
Little  Scalp  Lake  west — a  fine  bunch  of  names  for  a 
landscape  in  hell;  but  Portlaw  won't  change  them. 
West  and  south  the  wet  bones  of  the  Sacandaga  lie; 
and  south-east  you're  up  against  the  Great  Vlaie  and 
Frenchman's  Creek  and  Sir  William's  remains  from 
Guy  Park  on  the  Mohawk  to  the  Fish  House  and  all 
that  bally  Revolutionary  tommy-rot."  And  as  he 
blandly  drew  in  his  horses  beside  the  porch :  "  Look 
who's  here !  Who  but  our  rotund  friend  and  lover  of 

318 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

all  things  fat,  lord  of  the  manor  of  Chickadee-dee-dee 
which  he  has  taught  the  neighbouring  dicky-birds,, 
who  sit  around  the  house,  to  repeat  aloud  in  honour 
of " 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Louis !  How  are  you,  Hamil?  " 
grunted  Portlaw,  extending  a  heavily  cushioned,  highly 
coloured  hand  of  welcome. 

Hamil  and  Malcourt  descended ;  a  groom  blanketed 
the  horses  and  took  them  to  the  stables ;  and  Portlaw, 
with  a  large  gesture  of  impatient  hospitality,  led  the 
way  into  a  great,  warm  living-room,  snug,  deeply  and 
softly  padded,  and  in  which  the  fragrance  of  burning 
birch-logs  and  simmering  toddy  blended  agreeably  in 
the  sunshine. 

"  For  luncheon,"  began  Portlaw  with  animation, 
"  we're  going  to  try  a  new  sauce  on  that  pair  of  black 
ducks  they  brought  in " 

"  In  violation  of  the  laws  of  game  and  decency,'* 
observed  Malcourt,  shedding  his  fur  coat  and  unstrap 
ping  the  mail-satchel  from  Pride's  Fall. 

"  Shut  up,  Louis !  Can't  a  man  eat  the  things  that 
come  into  his  own  property  ?  "  And  he  continued  un 
folding  to  Hamil  his  luncheon  programme  while,  with 
a  silver  toddy-stick,  heirloom  from  bibulous  genera 
tions  of  Portlaws,  he  stirred  the  steaming  concoction 
which,  he  explained,  had  been  constructed  after  the 
great  Sir  William's  own  receipt. 

"You've  never  tried  a  Molly  Brant  toddy?  Man 
alive,  you've  wasted  your  youth,"  he  insisted,  genuinely 
grieved.  "  Well,  wise  men,  chiefs,  and  sachems,  here's, 
more  hair  on  your  scalp-locks,  and  a  fat  buck  to  every 
bow!" 

Malcourt  picked  up  his  glass.  "  Choh !  "  he  said 
maliciously;  but  Portlaw  did  not  understand  the  irony 

319 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


in  the  Seminole  salutation  of  The  Black  Drink;  and 
the  impudent  toast  was  swallowed  without  suspicion. 

Then  Hamil's  luggage  arrived,  and  he  went  away 
to  inspect  his  quarters,  prepare  for  luncheon,  and  ex 
change  his  attire  for  forest  dress.  For  he  meant  to 
lose  no  time  in  the  waste  corners  of  the  earth  when 
Gotham  town  might  any  day  suddenly  bloom  like  Eden 
with  the  one  young  blossom  that  he  loved. 

There  was  not  much  for  him  in  Eden  now — little 
enough  except  to  be  in  her  vicinity,  near  her  at 
times,  at  intervals  with  her  long  enough  to  exchange 
a.  word  or  two  under  the  smooth  mask  of  conven 
tion  which  leaves  even  the  eyes  brightly  expression 
less. 

Never  again  to  touch  her  hand  save  under  the  for 
mal  laws  sanctioned  by  usage ;  never  again  to  wake 
with  the  intimate  fragrance  of  her  memory  on  his  lips ; 
never  again  to  wait  for  the  scented  dusk  to  give  them 
to  each  other — to  hear  her  frail  gown's  rustle  on  the 
terrace,  her  footfall  in  the  midnight  corridor,  her  far, 
sweet  hail  to  him  from  the  surf,  her  soft  laughter  under 
the  roses  on  the  moon-lit  balcony. 

That — all  of  it — was  forever  ended.  But  he  be 
lieved  that  the  pallid  northern  phantom  of  the  past  was 
still  left  to  him ;  supposed  that  now,  at  least,  they  might 
miserably  consider  themselves  beyond  peril. 

But  what  man  supposes  of  woman  is  vain  imagin 
ing;  and  in  that  shadowy  neutral  ground  which  lies 
between  martyrdom  and  sin  no  maid  dwells  for  very 
long  before  she  crosses  one  frontier  or  the  other. 

When  he  descended  the  stairs  once  more  he  found 
Portlaw,  surrounded  by  the  contents  of  the  mail- 
sack,  and  in  a  very  bad  temper,  while  Malcourt  stood 
warming  his  back  at  the  blazing  birch-logs,  and 

320 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

gazing  rather  stupidly  at  a  folded  telegram  in  his 
hands. 

"Well,  Hamil— damn  it  all!  What  do  you  think 
of  that !  "  demanded  Portlaw,  turning  to  Hamil  as  he 
entered  the  room;  and  unheeding  Malcourt's  instinc 
tive  gesture  of  caution  which  he  gave,  not  comprehend 
ing  why  he  gave  it,  Portlaw  went  on,  fairly  pouting 
out  his  irritation: 

"  In  that  bally  mail-sack  which  Louis  brought  in 
from  Pride's  Fall  there's  a  telegram  from  your  friend, 
Neville  Cardross ;  and  why  the  devil  he  wants  Louis  to 
come  to  New  York  on  the  jump " 

"  I  have  a  small  balance  at  the  Shoshone  Trust,'r 
said  Malcourt.  "  Do  you  suppose  there's  anything' 
queer  about  the  company  ?  " 

Plamil  shook  his  head,  looking  curiously  at  Mal 
court. 

"  Well,  what  on  earth  do  you  think  Cardross  wants 
with  you  ?  "  demanded  Portlaw.  "  Read  that  telegram* 
again." 

Again  Malcourt's  instinct  seemed  to  warn  him  to 
silence.  All  the  same,  with  a  glance  at  Hamil,  he  un 
folded  the  bit  of  yellow  paper  and  read: 

"  Louis  MALCOURT, 

"  Superintendent  Luckless  Lake, 

"  Adirondacks. 

"  Your  presence  is  required  at  my  office  in  the  Sho 
shone  Securities  Building  on  a  matter  of  most  serious 
and  instant  importance.  Telegraph  what  train  you 
can  catch,  iir.  Carrick  will  meet  you  on  the  train  at 

<y"  "  NEVILLE  CARDROSS. 

"  Answer  Paid." 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Well,  what  the  devil  does  it  mean  ?  "  demanded 
Portlaw  peevishly.  "  I  can't  spare  you  now.  How 
•can  I?  Here's  Hamil  all  ready  for  you  to  take  him 
about  and  show  him  what  I  want  to  have  done " 

"  I  wonder  what  it  means,"  mused  Malcourt.  May- 
foe  there's  something  wrong  with  the  Tressilvain  end 
•of  the  family.  The  Shoshone  Securities  people  man- 
•age  her  investments  here " 

"  The  way  to  do  is  to  wire  and  find  out,"  grumbled 
Portlaw,  leading  the  way  to  the  luncheon  table  as  a 
servant  announced  that  function. 

For  it  was  certainly  a  function  with  Portlaw;  all 
eating  was  more  or  less  of  a  ceremony,  and  dinner  rose 
to  the  dignity  of  a  rite. 

"  I  can't   imagine  what  that  telegram " 

"  Forget  it !  "  snapped  Portlaw ;  "  do  you  want  to 
infect  my  luncheon?  When  a  man  lunches  he  ought  to 
give  his  entire  mind  to  it.  Talk  about  your  lost  arts ! 
« — the  art  of  eating  scarcely  survives  at  all.  Find  it 
again  and  you  revive  that  other  lost  art  of  prandial 
conversation.  Digestion's  not  possible  without  conver 
sation.  Hamil,  you  look  at  your  claret  in  a  funny 
way." 

"  I  was  admiring  the  colour  where  the  sun  strikes 
through,"  said  the  latter,  amused. 

"  Oh !  I  thought  you  were  remembering  that  claret 
is  temporarily  unfashionable.  That's  part  of  the  de 
generacy  of  the  times.  There  never  was  and  never  will 
be  any  wine  to  equal  it  when  it  has  the  body  of  a 
JBurgundy  and  the  bouquet  of  wild-grape  blossoms. 
Louis,"  cocking  his  heavy  red  face  and  considering 
&  morsel  of  duck,  "  what  is  your  opinion  concerning 
the  proper  melange  for  that  plumcot  salad  dress- 
mg?" 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

"  They  say,"  said  Malcourt  gravely,  "  that  when 
it's  mixed,  a  current  of  electricity  passed  through  it 
gives  it  a  most  astonishing  flavour " 

"  What !  " 

"  So  they  say  at  the  Stuyvesant  Club." 

Portlaw's  eyes  bulged ;  Hamil  had  to  bend  his  head 
low  over  his  plate,  but  Malcourt's  bland  impudence  re 
mained  unperturbed. 

"  Good  God !  "  muttered  Portlaw ;  "  Hamil,  did  you 
ever  hear  of  passing  electricity  through  a  salad  dress 
ing  composed  of  olive  oil,  astragon,  Arequipa  pepper, 
salt,  Samara  mustard,  essence  of  anchovy,  chives,  dis 
tilled  fresh  mushrooms,  truffles  pickled  in  1840  port — 
did  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hamil,  "  I  never  did." 

For  a  while  silence  settled  upon  the  table  while 
Portlaw  struggled  to  digest  mentally  the  gastronomic 
suggestion  offered  by  Malcourt." 

"  I  could  send  to  town  for  a  battery,"  he  saidt 
hesitatingly ;  "  or — there's  my  own  electric  plant " 

Malcourt  yawned.  There  was  not  much  fun  in  ex 
ploiting  such  a  man.  Besides,  Hamil  had  turned  un 
comfortable,  evidently  considering  it  the  worst  of  taste 
on  Malcourt's  part. 

"What  am  I  to  do  about  that  telegram?"  he 
asked,  lighting  a  cigarette. 

Portlaw,  immersed  in  sauce  and  the  electrical  prob 
lem,  adjusted  his  mind  with  an  effort  to  this  other  and 
less  amusing  question. 

"  Wire  for  particulars  and  sit  tight,"  advised  Port- 
law.  "  We've  just  three  now  for  '  Preference,'  and  if 
you  go  kiting  off  to  town  Hamil  and  I  will  be  forced 
into  double  dummy,  and  that's  a  horrible  mental  strain 
on  a  man — isn't  it,  Hamil  ?  " 

323 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  I  could  use  the  long-distance  telephone,"  said 
Malcourt  pensively. 

"Well,  for  the  love  of  Mike  go  and  do  it!" 
shouted  Portia  w,  "  and  let  me  try  to  enjoy  this  An- 
delys  cheese." 

So  Malcourt  sauntered  out  through  the  billiard- 
room,  leaving  an  aromatic  trail  of  cigarette  smoke  in 
his  wake;  and  he  closed  all  the  intervening  doors — 
why,  he  himself  could  not  have  explained. 

He  was  absent  a  long  time.  Portlaw  had  ter 
minated  the  table  ceremony,  and  now,  ensconced  among 
a  dozen  fat  cushions  by  the  fire,  a  plump  cigar  burn 
ing  fragrantly  between  his  curiously  clean-cut  and 
sharply  chiselled  lips,  he  sat  enthroned,  majestically  di 
gesting  ;  and  his  face  of  a  Greek  hero,  marred  by  heavy 
flesh,  had  become  almost  somnolent  in  its  expression 
of  well-being  and  corporeal  contentment. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I'd  do  without  Louis,"  he  said 
sleepily.  "  He  keeps  my  men  hustling,  he  answers  for 
everything  on  the  bally  place,  he's  so  infernally  clever 
that  he  amuses  me  and  my  guests,  he's  on  the  job 
every  minute.  It  would  be  devilishly  unpleasant  for 
me  if  I  lost  him.  .  .  .  And  I'm  always  afraid  of  it. 
.  .  .  There  are  usually  a  lot  of  receptive  girls  mak 
ing  large  eyes  at  him.  .  .  .  My  only  safety  is  that 
they  are  so  many — and  so  easy.  ...  If  Cardross 
hadn't  signed  that  telegram  I'd  bet  my  bottes-sauvage 
it  concerned  some  entanglement." 

Hamil  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  studied  the  forest 
through  the  leaded  casement.  Sometimes  he  thought 
of  Portlaw's  perverse  determination  to  spoil  the  mag 
nificent  simplicity  of  the  place  with  exotic  effects 
lugged  in  by  the  ears ;  sometimes  he  wondered  what 
Mr.  Cardross  could  have  to  say  to  Malcourt — what 

324. 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

matter  of  such  urgent  importance  could  possibly  con 
cern  those  two  men. 

And,  thinking,  he  thought  of  Shiela — and  of  their 
last  moments  together;  thought  of  her  as  he  had  left 
her,  crouched  there  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  her 
face  and  head  buried  in  her  crossed  arms. 

Portlaw  was  nodding  drowsily  over  his  cigar;  the 
April  sunshine  streamed  into  the  room  through  every 
leaded  pane,  inlaying  the  floor  with  glowing  diamonds ; 
dogs  barked  from  the  distant  kennels ;  cocks  were  crow 
ing  from  the  farm.  Outside  the  window  he  saw  how 
the  lilac's  dully  varnished  buds  had  swollen  and  where 
the  prophecy  of  snow-drop  and  crocus  under  the  buck 
thorn  hedge  might  be  fulfilled  on  the  morrow.  Already 
over  the  green-brown,  soaking  grass  one  or  two 
pioneer  grackle  were  walking  busily  about ;  and  some 
where  in  a  near  tree  the  first  robin  chirked  and  chirped 
and  fussed  in  its  loud  and  familiar  fashion,  only  partly 
pleased  to  find  himself  in  the  gray  thaw  of  the  scarcely 
comfortable  North  once  more. 

Portlaw  looked  up  dully :  "  Those  robins  come  up 
here  and  fatten  on  our  fruit,  and  a  fool  law  forbids 
us  to  shoot  'em.  Robin  pie,"  he  added,  "  is  not  to  be 
despised,  but  a  sentimental  legislature  is  the  limit.  .  .  . 
Sentiment  always  did  bore  me.  .  .  .  How  do  you  feel 
after  your  luncheon  ?  " 

"All  right,"  said  Hamil,  smiling.  "I'd  like  to 
ttart  out  as  soon  as  Malcourt  comes  back." 

"  Oh,  don't  begin  that  sort  of  thing  the  moment 
you  get  here !  "  protested  Portlaw.  My  heavens,  man ! 
there's  no  hurry.  Can't  you  smoke  a  cigar  and  play 
a  card  or  two " 

"  You  know  I've  other  commissions " 

"  Oh,  of  course ;  but  I  hoped  you'd  have  time  to 
325 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


take  it  easy.  I've  looked  forward  to  having  you 
here — so  has  Malcourt ;  he  thinks  you're  about  right, 
you  know.  And  he  makes  damn  few  friends  among 
men " 

The  door  opened  and  Malcourt  entered  slowly, 
almost  noiselessly.  There  was  not  a  vestige  of  colour 
in  his  face,  nor  of  expression  as  he  crossed  the  room 
for  a  match  and  relighted  his  cigarette. 

"  Well?  "  inquired  Portlaw,  "  did  you  get  Cardross 
on  the  wire  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Malcourt  stood  motionless,  hands  in  his  pockets, 
the  cigarette  smoke  curling  up  blue  in  the  sunshine. 

"  I've  got  to  go,"  he  said. 

"  What  for  ? "  demanded  Portlaw,  then  sulkily 
begged  pardon  and  pouted  his  dissatisfaction  in  si 
lence. 

"  When  do  you  go,  Malcourt  ?  "  asked  Hamil,  still 
wondering. 

"  Now."  He  lifted  his  head  but  looked  across  at 
Portlaw.  "  I've  telephoned  the  stable,  and  called  up 
Pride's  Fall  to  flag  the  five-thirty  express,"  he  said, 

Portlaw  was  growing  madder  and  madder. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  when  you  expect  to 
be  back?  "  he  inquired  ill-temperedly. 

"  I  don't  know  yet." 

"  Don't  know!  "  burst  out  Portlaw;  "  hell's  bells!  " 

Malcourt  shook  his  head. 

Portlaw  profanely  requested  information  as  to  how 
the  place  was  to  be  kept  going.  Malcourt  was  patient 
with  him  to  the  verge  of  indifference. 

"  There's  nothing  to  blow  up  about.  Hastings  is 
competent  to  manage  things " 

"  That  conceited  pup  !  " 
326 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

"  Hastings  understands,"  repeated  Malcourt,  in  a 
listless  voice.  "  I've  always  counted  on  Alexander 
Hastings  for  any  emergency.  He  knows  things, 
and  he's  capable.  .  .  .  Only  don't  be  brusque.  He 
doesn't  understand  you  as  I  do.  .  .  .  and  he's  fully 
your  equal — fully — in  every  way — and  then  some — " 
The  weariness  in  his  tone  was  close  to  a  sneer;  he 
dropped  his  cigarette  into  the  fire  and  began  to  roll 
another. 

"  Louis,"   said  Portlaw,   frightened. 

"Well?" 

"What  the  devil  is  the  meaning  of  all  this?  You 
are  coming  back,  aren't  you?  " 

Malcourt  continued  to  roll  his  cigarette,  but  after 
a  while  he  spoiled  it  and  began  to  construct  another. 

"Are  you,  Louis?" 

"What?" 

"Coming  back  here — soon?" 

"  If  I— if  it's  the  thing  to  do.  I  don't  know  yet. 
You  mustn't  press  the  matter  now." 

"  You  think  there's  a  chance  that  you  won't  come 
back  at  all  \  "  exclaimed  Portlaw,  aghast. 

Malcourt's  cigarette  fell  to  pieces  in  his  fingers. 

"  I'll  come  if  I  can,  Billy.  I  tell  you  to  let  me 
alone.  ...  I  don't  know  where  I  am  coming  out — 
yet." 

"  If  it's  money .  you  need,  you  know  perfectly 
well " 

But  Malcourt  shook  his  head.  From  the  moment 
of  his  entrance  he  had  kept  his  face  carefully  averted 
from  Hamil's  view;  had  neither  looked  at  him  nor 
spoken  except  in  monosyllabic  answer  to  a  single  ques 
tion. 

The  rattle  of  the  buckboard  on  the  wet  gravel  drive 
22  327 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


brought  Portlaw  to  his  feet.  A  servant  appeared  with 
Malcourt's  suit-case  and  overcoat. 

"  There's  a  trunk  to  follow ;  Williams  is  to  pack 
what  I  need.  .  .  .  Good-bye,  Billy.  I  wouldn't  go  if  I 
didn't  have  to." 

Portlaw  took  his  offered  hand  as  though  dazed. 

"  You'll  come  back,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  in  a 
couple  of  days — or  a  week  if  you  like — but  you'll  be 
back,  of  course.  You  know  if  there's  anything  the  mat 
ter  with  your  salary  just  say  so.  I  always  meant  you 
should  feel  perfectly  free  to  fix  your  salary  to  suit  your 
self.  Only  be  sure  to  come  back  in  a  week,  won't  you?" 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Malcourt  in  a  low  voice.  "  I'd 
like  to  talk  to  Hamil — if  he  can  give  me  a  few  moments." 

Bareheaded,  Hamil  stepped  out  into  the  clear,  crisp, 
April  sunshine  where  the  buckboard  stood  on  the  gravel. 

The  strong  outdoor  light  emphasized  Malcourt's 
excessive  pallor,  and  the  hand  he  offered  Hamil  was 
icy.  Then  his  nervous  grasp  relaxed ;  he  drew  on 
his  dog-pelt  driving  gloves  and  buttoned  the  fur  coat 
to  the  throat. 

"  I  want  you — to — to  remember — remember  that  I 
always  liked  you,"  he  said  with  an  effort,  in  curious 
contrast  to  his  habitual  fluency.  "  You  won't  believe 
it — some  day.  But  it  is  true.  .  .  .  Perhaps  I'll  prove 
it,  yet.  .  .  .  My  father  used  to  say  that  everything 
except  death  had  been  proven ;  and  there  remained, 
therefore,  only  one  event  of  any  sporting  interest  to  the 
world.  .  .  .  He  was  a  very  interesting  man — my  father. 
He  did  not  believe  in  death.  .  .  .  And  I  do  not.  .  .  . 
This  sloughing  off  of  the  material  integument  seems 
to  me  purely  a  matter  of  the  mechanical  routine  of 
evolution,,  a  natural  process  in  further  and  inevitable 
development,  not  a  finality  to  individualism!  .  .  .  Fer- 

328 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

tilisation,  gestation,  the  hatching,  growth,  the  episodic 
deliverance  from  encasing  matter  which  is  called  death, 
seem  to  me  only  the  first  few  basic  steps  in  the  sequences 
of  an  endless  metamorphosis.  .  .  .  My  father  thought 
so.  His  was  a  very  fine  mind — is  a  finer  mind  still. 
.  .  .  Will  you  understand  me  if  I  say  that  we  often 
communicate  with  each  other — my  father  and  I  ?  " 

"  Communicate?  "  repeated  Hamil. 

"  Often." 

Hamil  said  slowly :  "  I  don't  think  I  understand." 

Malcourt  looked  at  him,  the  ever-latent  mockery 
flickering  in  his  eyes;  then,  by  degrees,  his  head  bent 
forward  in  the  old  half-cunning,  half-wistful  attitude  as 
though  listening.  A  vague  smile  touched  the  pallor  of 
his  face,  and  he  presently  looked  up  with  something  of 
his  old  debonair  impudence. 

"  The  truly  good  are  always  so  interested  in  creat 
ing  hell  for  the  wicked,"  he  said,  "  that  sometimes  the 
good  get  into  the  pit  themselves  just  to  see  how  hot  it 
really  is.  And  find  the  wicked  have  never  been  there. 
.  .  .  Hamil,  the  hopelessly  wicked — and  there  are  few 
of  them  who  are  not  mentally  irresponsible — never  go  to 
hell  because  they  wouldn't  mind  it  if  they  did.  It's 
the  good  who  are  hell's  architects  and  often  its  tenants. 
.  .  .  I'm  speaking  of  all  prisoners  of  conscience.  The 
wicked  have  none." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  There's  always  an  exit  from  one  of  these  tem 
porary  little  pits  of  torment,"  he  said ;  "  when  one  finds 
it  too  oppressive  in  the  shade.  .  .  .  When  one  obtains 
a  proper  perspective,  and  retains  one's  sense  of  humour, 
and  enough  of  conscience  to  understand  the  crime  of 
losing  time.  .  .  .  And  when,  in  correct  perspective,  one 
realises  the  fictitious  value  of  that  temporary  phase 

329 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


called  the  human  unit,  and  when  one  cuts  free  from 
the  absurd  dogma  concerning  the  dignity  and  the  sanc 
tity  of  that  human  unit.  .  .  .  I'm  keeping  you  from 
your  cigar  and  arm-chair  and  from  Portlaw.  ...  A 
good,  kindly  gossip,  who  fed  my  belly  and  filled  my 
purse  and  loved  me  for  the  cards  I  played.  I'm  a 
,  yellow  pup  to  mock  him.  I'm  a  pup  anyhow.  .  .  . 
But,  Hamil,  there  is,  in  the  worst  pup,  one  streak  not 
all  yellow.  And  the  very  worst  are  capable  of  one 
friendship.  You  may  not  believe  this  some  day.  But 
it  is  true.  .  .  .  Good-bye." 

"  Is  there  anything,  Malcourt " 

"  Nothing  you  can  do  for  me.  Perhaps  something 
I  can  do  for  you — "  And,  laughing,  "  I'll  consult  my 
father;  he's  not  very  definite  on  that  point  yet." 

So  Malcourt  swung  aboard  the  wagon,  nodded 
again  to  Hamil,  waved  a  pleasant  adieu  to  Portlaw  at  the 
window,  and  was  gone  in  a  shower  of  wet  gravel  and  mud. 

And  all  that  day  Portlaw  fussed  and  fumed  and 
pouted  about  the  house,  tormenting  Hamil  with  ques 
tions  and  speculations  concerning  the  going  of  Mal 
court,  which  for  a  while  struck  Hamil  merely  as 
selfish  ebullitions ;  but  later  it  came  to  him  by  degrees 
that  this  rich,  selfish,  over-fed,  over-pampered,  and 
revoltingly  idle  landowner,  whose  sole  mental  and 
physical  resources  were  confined  to  the  dinner  and  card 
,  tables,  had  been  capable  of  a  genuine  friendship  for 
Malcourt.  Self-centred,  cautious  to  the  verge  of  mean 
ness  in  everything  which  did  not  directly  concern  his 
own  comfort  and  well-being,  he,  nevertheless,  was  totally 
dependent  upon  his  friends  for  a  full  enjoyment  of  his 
two  amusements;  for  he  hated  to  dine  alone  and  he 
loathed  solitaire. 

Therefore,  in  spending  money  to  make  his  house  and 
330 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

grounds  attractive  to  his  friends,  he  was  ministering,  as 
always,  to  himself ;  and  when  he  first  took  Malcourt  for 
his  superintendent  he  did  so  from  purely  selfish  motives 
and  at  a  beggarly  stipend. 

And  now,  in  the  two  years  of  his  official  tenure, 
Malcourt  already  completely  dominated  him,  often 
bullied  him,  criticised  him  to  his  face,  betrayed  no  il 
lusions  concerning  the  absolute  self-interest  which  dic 
tated  Portlaw's  policy  in  all  things,  coolly  fixed  and 
regulated  all  salaries,  including  his  own,  and,  in  short, 
matched  Portlaw's  undisguised  selfishness  with  a  cyni 
cism  so  sparkling  and  so  frankly  ruthless  that  Portlaw 
gradually  formed  for  him  a  real  attachment. 

There  was  no  indiscriminate  generosity  in  that  at 
tachment;  he  never  voluntarily  increased  Malcourt's 
salary  or  decreased  his  responsibilities ;  he  got  out  of 
his  superintendent  every  bit  of  labour  and  every  bit 
of  amusement  he  could  at  the  lowest  price  Malcourt 
would  take;  yet,  in  spite  of  that  he  really  cared  for 
Malcourt;  he  secretly  admired  his  intellectual  equip 
ment;  feared  it,  too;  and  the  younger  man's  capacity 
for  dissipation  made  him  an  invaluable  companion  when 
Portlaw  emerged  from  his  camp  in  November  and 
waddled  forth  upon  his  annual  hunt  for  happiness. 

Something  of  this  Hamil  learned  through  the  in 
discriminate  volubility  of  his  host  who,  when  his  feel 
ings  had  been  injured,  was  amusingly  na'ive  for  such  a 
self-centred  person. 

"  That  damn  Louis,"  he  confided  to  Hamil  over  their 
after-dinner  cigars,  "  has  kept  me  guessing  ever  since 
he  took  command  here.  Half  the  time  I  don't  under 
stand  what  he's  talking  about  even  when  I  know  he's 
making  fun  of  me;  but,  Hamil,  you  have  no  idea  how 
I  miss  him." 

331 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


And  on  another  occasion  a  week  later,  while  la 
boriously  poring  over  some  rough  plans  laid  out  for 
him  by  Hamil: 

"  Louis  agrees  with  you  about  this  improvement 
business.  He's  dead  against  my  building  Rhine-castle 
ruins  on  the  crags,  and  he  had  the  impudence  to  in 
form  me  that  I  had  a  cheap  mind.  By  God,  Hamil, 
I  can't  see  anything  cheap  in  trying  to  spend  a  quar 
ter  of  a  million  in  decorating  this  infernal  monotony 
of  trees ;  can  you  ?  " 

And  Hamil,  for  the  first  time  in  many  a  day,  lay 
back  in  his  arm-chair  and  laughed  with  all  his  heart. 

He  had  hard  work  in  weaning  Portlaw  from  his 
Rhine  castles,  for  the  other  invariably  met  his  objec 
tions  by  quoting  in  awful  German: 

"  Hast  du  das  Schloss  gesehen — 
Das  hohe  Schloss  am  Meer  ?  " 

— pronounced  precisely  as  though  the  words  were 
English.  Which  laudable  effort  toward  intellectual  and 
artistic  uplift  Hamil  never  laughed  at;  and  there  en 
sued  always  the  most  astonishing  causerie  concerning 
art  that  two  men  in  a  wilderness  ever  engaged  in. 

Young  Hastings,  a  Yale  academic  and  forestry 
graduate,  did  fairly  well  in  Malcourt's  place,  and  was 
I  doing  better  every  day.  For  one  thing  he  knew  much 
more  about  practical  forestry  and  the  fish  and  game 
problems  than  did  Malcourt,  who  was  a  better  organiser 
than  executive. 

He  began  by  dumping  out  into  a  worthless  and 
landlocked  bass-pond  every  brown  trout  in  the  hatchery. 
He  then  drew  off  the  water  in  the  brown-trout  ponds, 
sent  in  men  with  seines  and  shotguns,  and  finally,  with 


THE   LINE   OF   BATTLE 

dynamite,  purged  the  free  waters  of  the  brown  danger 
for  good  and  all. 

"  When  Malcourt  comes  back,"  observed  Portlaw, 
"  you'll  have  to  answer  for  all  this." 

"  I  won't  be  questioned,"  said  Hastings,  smiling. 

"  Oh!     And  what  do  you  propose  to  do  next?  " 

"  If  I  had  the  money  you  think  of  spending  on 
ruined  castles  " — very  respectfully — "  I'd  build  a  wall 
in  place  of  that  mesh-wire  fence." 

"  Why?  "  asked  Portlaw. 

"  The  wire  deceives  the  grouse  when  they  come 
driving  headlong  through  the  woods.  My  men  pick 
up  dozens  of  dead  grouse  and  woodcock  along  the  fence. 
If  it  were  a  wall  they'd  go  over  it.  As  it  is,  if  I 
had  my  way,  I'd  restock  with  Western  ruffed-grouse; 
cut  out  that  pheasantry  altogether,  and  try  to  breed 
our  own  native  game-bird " 

"  What !  You  can't  breed  ruff ed-grouse  in  cap 
tivity  ! " 

"  I've  done  it,  sir,"  said  young  Hastings  modestly. 

That  night,  over  the  plans,  Portlaw  voiced  his  dis 
trust  of  Hastings  and  mourned  aloud  for  Malcourt. 

"  That  infernal  Louis,"  he  complained,  waving  his 
fat  cigar,  "  hasn't  written  one  line  to  me  in  a  week ! 
What  the  deuce  is  he  doing  down  there  in  town?  I 
won't  stand  it!  The  ice  is  out  and  Wayward  and 
Cuyp  and  Vetchen  are  coming  up  for  the  fishing;  and 
Mrs.  Ascott,  perhaps,  is  coming,  and  Miss  Palliser, 
and,  I  hope,  Miss  Suydam;  that  makes  our  eight  for 
Bridge,  you  seet  with  you  and  me.  If  Louis  were  here 
I'd  have  three  others — but  I  can't  ask  anybody  else 
until  I  know." 

"  Perhaps  you'll  get  a  telegram  when  the  buck- 
board  returns  from  Pride's  Fall,"  said  Hamil  quietly. 

333 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


He,  too,  had  been  waiting  for  a  letter  that  had  not 
come.  Days  were  lengthening  into  weeks  since  his  de 
parture  from  the  South;  and  the  letter  he  taught  him 
self  to  expect  had  never  come. 

That  she  would  write  sooner  or  later  he  had  dared 
believe  at  first;  and  then,  as  day  after  day  passed,  be 
lief  faded  into  hope;  and  now  the  colours  of  hope  were 
fading  into  the  gray  tension  of  suspense. 

He  had  written  her  every  day,  cheerful,  amusing 
letters  of  current  commonplaces  which  now  made  up  his 
life.  In  them  was  not  one  hint  of  love — no  echo  of 
former  intimacy,  nothing  of  sadness,  or  regret,  only  a 
friendly  sequence  of  messages,  of  inquiries,  of  details 
recounting  the  events  of  the  days  as  they  dawned  and 
faded  through  the  silvery  promise  of  spring  in  the 
chill  of  the  Northern  hills. 

Every  morning  and  evening  the  fleet  little  Morgans 
came  tearing  in  from  Pride's  Fall  with  the  big  leather 
mail-bag,  which  bore  Portlaw's  initials  in  metal,  bulging 
with  letters,  newspapers,  magazines  for  Portlaw;  and 
now  and  then  a  slim  envelope  for  him  from  his  aunt, 
or  letters,  bearing  the  Palm  Beach  post-mark,  from  con 
tractors  on  the  Cardross  estate,  or  from  his  own  super 
intendent.  But  that  was  all. 

His  days  were  passed  afoot  in  the  forested  hills, 
along  lonely  little  lakes,  following  dashing  trout-brooks 
or  studying  the  United  States  Geological  Survey  maps 
which  were  not  always  accurate  in  minor  details  of 
contour,  and  sometimes  made  a  mockery  of  the  lesser 
water-courses,  involving  him  and  his  surveyors  in  end 
less  complications. 

Sometimes,  toward  evening,  if  the  weather  was  mild, 
he  and  Portlaw  took  their  rods  for  a  cast  on  Painted 
Creek — a  noble  trout  stream  which  took  its  name  from 

334. 


THE   LINE   OF  BATTLE 

the  dropping  autumn  glory  of  the  sugar-bush  where 
the  water  passed  close  to  the  house.  There  lithe,  wild 
trout  struck  tigerishly  at  the  flies  and  fought  like 
demons,  boring  Portlaw  intensely,  who  preferred  to 
haul  in  a  prospective  dinner  without  waste  of  energy, 
and  be  about  the  matter  of  a  new  sauce  with  his  cook. 


CHAPTER    XX 

i 

A    NEW    ENEMY 

ONE  evening  in  April,  returning  with  a  few  brace 
of  trout,  they  found  the  mail-bag  awaiting  them 
on  the  hall  table;  and  Portlaw  distributed  the  con 
tents,  proclaiming,  as  usual,  his  expectation  of  a  letter 
from  Malcourt. 

There  was  none.  And,  too  peevish  and  disappointed 
to  even  open  the  heterogeneous  mass  of  letters  and  news 
papers,  he  slumped  sulkily  in  his  chair,  feet  on  the 
fender,  biting  into  his  extinct  cigar. 

"  That  devilish  Louis,"  he  said,  "  has  been  away  for 
several  of  the  most  accursedly  lonely  weeks  I  ever  spent. 
.  .  .  No  reflection  on  you,  Hamil —  Oh,  I  beg  your 
pardon ;  I  didn't  see  you  were  busy " 

Hamil  had  not  even  heard  him.  He  was  busy — 
very  busy  with  a  letter — dozens  of  sheets  of  a  single 
letter,  closely  written,  smeared  in  places — the  letter 
that  had  come  at  last! 

In  the  fading  light  he  bent  low  over  the  pages. 
Later  a  servant  lighted  the  lamps;  later  still  Portlaw  • 
went  into  the  library,  drew  out  a  book  bound  in 
crushed  levant,  pushed  an  electric  button,  and  sat  down. 
The  book  bound  so  admirably  in  crushed  levant  was  a 
cook-book;  the  bell  he  rang  summoned  his  cook. 

In  the  lamplit  living-room  the  younger  man 
bent  over  the  letter  that  had  come  at  last.  It  wa& 

336 


A   NEW   ENEMY 


dated  early  in  April;  had  been  written  at  Palm  Beach, 
carried  to  New  York,  but  had  only  been  consigned  to 
the  mails  within  thirty-six  hours: 

"  I  have  had  all  your  letters — but  no  courage  to 
answer.  Now  you  will  write  no  more. 

"  Dear — this,  my  first  letter  to  you,  is  also  my  last. 
I  know  now  what  the  condemned  feel  who  write  in  the 
hour  of  death. 

"  When  you  went  away  on  Thursday  I  could  not 
leave  my  room  to  say  good-bye  to  you.  Gray  came  and 
knocked,  but  I. was  not  fit  to  be  seen.  If  I  hadn't  looked 
so  dreadfully  I  wouldn't  have  minded  being  ill.  You 
know  that  a  little  illness  would  not  have  kept  me  from 
coming  to  say  good-bye  to  you. 

"  So  you  went  away,  all  alone  with  Gray.  I  re 
mained  in  bed  that  day  with  the  room  darkened.  Mother 
and  Cecile  were  troubled  but  could  not  bring  themselves 
to  believe  that  my  collapse  was  due  to  your  going.  It 
was  not  logical,  you  know,  as  we  all  expected  to  see  you 
in  a  week  or  two  in  New  York. 

"  So  they  had  Dr.  Vernam,  and  I  took  what  he  pre 
scribed,  and  nobody  attached  any  undue  importance  to 
the  matter.  So  I  was  left  to  myself,  and  I  lay  and 
thought  out  what  I  had  to  do. 

"  Dear — I  knew  there  was  only  one  thing  to  do ;  I 
knew  whither  my  love — our  love — was  carrying  me — 
faster  and  faster — spite  of  all  I'd  said.  Said!  What 
are  words  beside  such  love  as  ours  ?  What  would  be  my 
affection  for  dad  and  mother  beside  my  love  for  you? 
Would  your  loyalty  and  your  dear  self-denial  continue 
to  help  me  when  they  only  make  me  love  you  more 
intensely  ? 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  clear  in  all  this  pitiful  con- 
337 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


fusion ;  I — whom  they  took  and  made  their  child — can 
not  sacrifice  them!  And  yet  I  would ! — oh,  Garry! — I 
would  for  you.  There  was  no  safety  for  me  at  all  as 
long  as  there  was  the  slightest  chance  to  sacrifice  every 
thing — everybody — and  give  myself  to  you. 

"  Listen !  On  the  second  day  after  you  left  I  was 
sitting  with  mother  and  Cecile  on  the  terrace.  We  were 
quietly  discussing  the  closing  of  the  house  and  other 
harmless  domestic  matters.  All  at  once  there  swept  over 
me  such  a  terrible  sense  of  desolation  that  I  think  I  lost 
my  mind ;  for  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  standing  in 
my  own  room,  dressed  for  travelling — with  a  hand-bag 
in  my  hand. 

66  It  was  my  maid  knocking  that  brought  me  to  my 
senses :  I  had  been  going  away  to  find  you ;  that  was  all 
I  could  realise.  And  I  sank  on  my  bed,  trembling ;  and 
presently  fell  into  the  grief-stricken  lethargy  which  is 
all  I  know  now  of  sleep. 

"  But  when  I  woke  to  face  the  dreadful  day  again, 
I  knew  the  time  had  come.  And  I  went  to  mother  that 
evening  and  told  her. 

"  But,  Garry,  there  is  never  to  be  any  escape  from 
deception,  it  seems ;  I  had  to  make  her  think  I  wanted 
to  acknowledge  and  take  up  life  with  my  husband.  My 
life  is  to  be  a  living  lie !  ... 

"  As  I  expected,  mother  was  shocked  and  grieved 
beyond  words — and,  dearest,  they  are  bitterly  disap 
pointed  ;  they  all  had  hoped  it  would  be  you. 

66  She  says  there  must  positively  be  another  cere 
mony.  I  don't  know  how  dad  will  take  it — but  mother 
is  so  good,  so  certain  of  his  forgiving  me. 

"  It  wrings  my  heart — the  silent  astonishment  of 
Cecile  and  Gray — and  their  trying  to  make  the  best  of 
it,  and  mother,  smiling  for  my  sake,  tender,  forgiving, 

338 


A    NEW   ENEMY 


solicitous,  and  deep  under  all  bitterly  disappointed. 
Oh,  well — she  can  bear  that  better  than  disgrace. 

"  I've  been  crying  over  this  letter ;  that's  what  all 
this  blotting  means. 

"  Now  I  can  never  see  you  again ;  never  touch  your 
hand,  never  look  into  those  brown  eyes  again — Garry! 
Garry  ! — never  while  life  lasts. 

"  I  ask  forgiveness  for  all  the  harm  my  love  has 
done  to  you,  for  all  the  pain  it  has  caused  you,  for  the 
unhappiness  that,  please  God,  will  not  endure  with  you 
too  long. 

"  I  have  tried  to  pray  that  the  pain  will  not  last  too 
long  for  you;  I  will  try  to  pray  that  you  may  love 
another  woman  and  forget  all  this  unhappiness. 

"  Think  of  me  as  one  who  died,  loving  you.  I  cling 
to  this  paper  as  though  it  were  your  hand.  But 

"  Dearest — dearest — Good-by. 

"  SHIE:LA  CARDROSS.' 


When  Portlaw  came  in  from  his  culinary  conference 
he  found  Hamil  scattering  the  black  ashes  of  a  letter 
among  the  cinders. 

"  Well,  we're  going  to  try  an  old  English  receipt 
on  those  trout,"  he  began  cheerfully — and  stopped 
short  at  sight  of  Hamil's  face. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked  bluntly. 

"  Nothing." 

Hamil  returned  to  his  chair  and  picked  up  a  book; 
Portlaw  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  then,  perplexed, 
sorted  his  mail  and  began  to  open  the  envelopes. 

"  Bills,  bills,"  he  muttered,  "  appeals  for  some  con 
founded  foundlings'  hospital — all  the  eternal  junk 
my  flesh  is  heir  to — and  a  letter  from  a  lawyer — let 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


them  sue! — and  a — a — hey!  what  the  devil — what 
the " 

Portlaw  was  on  his  feet,  startled  eyes  fairly  protrud 
ing  as  he  scanned  incredulously  the  engraved  card  be 
tween  his  pudgy  fingers. 

"  O  Lord !  "  he  bellowed ;  "  it's  all  up !  The  entire 
bally  business  has  gone  up !  That  pup  of  a  Louis ! — 
Oh,  there's  no  use ! —  Look  here,  Hamil !  I  tell  you  I 
can't  believe  it,  I  can't,  and  I  won't —  Look  what  that 
fool  card  says  !  " 

And  Hamil's  stunned  gaze  fell  on  the  engraved  card : 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Neville  Cardross  have  the  honour  of 
announcing  the  marriage  of  their  daughter  Shiela  to 
Mr.  Louis  Malcourt. 

The  date  and  place  followed. 

Portlaw  was  making  considerable  noise  over  the 
matter,  running  about  distractedly  with  little,  short, 
waddling  steps.  Occasionally  he  aimed  a  kick  at  a 
stuffed  arm-chair,  which  did  not  hurt  his  foot  too  much. 

It  was  some  time  before  he  calmed  enough  to  pout 
and  fume  and  protest  in  his  usual  manner,  appealing 
alternately  to  Heaven  as  witness  and  to  Hamil  for  cor- 
roboration  that  he  had  been  outrageously  used. 

"  Now,  who  the  devil  could  suspect  him  of  such  in 
tention  !  "  wailed  poor  Portlaw.  "  God  knows,  he  was 
casual  with  the  sex.  There  have  been  dozens  of  them, 
Hamil,  literally  dozens  in  every  port! — from  Mamie 
and  Stella  up  to  Gladys  and  Ethelberta!  Yes,  he  was 
Harry  to  some  and  Reginald  to  others — high,  low — 
and  the  game,  Hamil — the  game  amused  him;  but  so 
help  me  kings  and  aces !  I  never  looked  for  this — never 
si  help  me;  and  I  thought  him  as  safe  with  the  Vere- 
de- Veres  as  he  was  with  the  Pudding  Sisters,  Farina  and 
Tapioca !  And  now  " — passionately  displaying  the  en- 

340 


A   NEW  ENEMY 


graved  card — "  look  who's  here !  .  .  .  O  pip !  What's 
the  use." 

Dinner  modified  his  grief ;  hope  bubbled  in  the  Bur 
gundy,  simmered  in  the  soup,  grew  out  of  gravy  like 
the  sturdy,  eternal  weed  she  is,  parasitic  in  the  human 
breast. 

"  He's  probably  married  a  million  or  so,"  suggested 
Portlaw,  mollified  under  the  seductive  appeal  of  a  fruit 
salad  dressed  with  a  mixture  containing  nearly  a  hun 
dred  different  ingredients.  "  If  he  has  I  don't  see  why 
he  shouldn't  build  a  camp  next  to  mine.  I'll  give  him 
the  land — if  he  doesn't  care  to  pay  for  it,"  he  added 
cautiously.  "  Don't  say  anything  to  him  about  it, 
Hamil.  After  all,  why  shouldn't  he  pay  for  the  land? 
.  .  .  But  if  he  doesn't  want  to — between  you  and  me — 
I'll  come  within  appreciable  distance  of  almost  giving 
him  what  land  he  needs.  .  .  .  O  gee!  O  fizz!  That 
damn  Louis!  .  .  .  And  I'm  wondering — about  several 
matters " 

After  dinner  Portlaw  settled  down  by  the  fire,  cigar 
lighted,  and  began  to  compose  a  letter  to  Malcourt,  em 
bodying  his  vivid  ideas  concerning  a  new  house  near 
his  own  for  the  bridal  pair. 

Hamil  went  out  into  the  fresh  April  night.  The 
young  grass  was  wet  under  the  stars;  a  delicate  fra 
grance  of  new  buds  filled  the  air. 

He  had  been  walking  for  a  long  time,  when  the  first 
far  hint  of  thunder  broke  the  forest  silence.  Later 
lightning  began  to  quiver  through  the  darkness ;  a  wind 
awaking  overhead  whispered  prophecy,  wailed  it,  fore 
boding;  then  slowly  the  woods  filled  with  the  roar  of 
the  rain. 

He  was  moving  on,  blindly,  at  random,  conscious 
only  of  the  necessity  of  motion.  Where  the  underbrush 

341 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


halted  him  he  sheered  off  into  the  open  timber,  feeling 
his  way,  falling  sometimes,  lying  where  he  fell  for  a 
while  till  the  scourge  of  necessity  lashed  him  into  mo 
tion  again. 

About  midnight  the  rain  increased  to  a  deluge, 
slackened  fitfully,  and  died  out  in  a  light  rattle  of 
thunder;  star  after  star  broke  out  through  the  dainty 
vapours  overhead ;  the  trees  sighed  and  grew  quiet.  For 
a  while  drumming  drops  from  the  branches  filled  the 
silence  with  a  musical  tattoo,  then  there  remained  no 
sound  save,  far  away  in  the  darkness,  the  muffled  roar 
of  some  brook,  brimming  bank-high  with  the  April 
rain.  And  Hamil,  soaked,  exhausted,  and  believing  he 
could  sleep,  went  back  to  the  house.  Toward  morning 
sleep  came. 

He  awoke  restless  and  depressed;  and  the  next 
morning  he  was  not  well;  and  not  quite  as  well  the 
next,  remaining  in  his  room  with  a  headache,  pestered 
by  Portlaw  and  retinues  of  servants  bearing  delicacies 
on  trays. 

He  had  developed  a  cold,  not  a  very  bad  one,  and 
on  the  third  day  he  resumed  his  duties  in  the  woods 
with  Phelps  and  Baker,  the  surveyors,  and  young  Has 
tings. 

The  dull,  stupid  physical  depression  hung  on  to 
him ;  so  did  his  cold ;  and  he  found  breathing  difficult  at 
j  night.  The  weather  had  turned  very  raw  and  harsh, 
culminating  in  a  flurry  of  snow. 

Then  one  morning  he  appeared  at  breakfast  look 
ing  so  ghastly  that  Portlaw  became  alarmed.  It 
seemed  to  be  rather  late  for  that;  HamiPs  face  was 
already  turning  a  dreadful  bluish  white  under  his 
host's  astonished  gaze,  and  as  the  first  chill  seized  him 
he  rose  from  the  table,  reeling. 


A    NEW   ENEMY 


"  I — I  am  sorry,  Portlaw,"  he  tried  to  say. 

"  What  on  earth  have  you  got?  "  asked  Portlaw  in 
a  panic;  but  Hamil  could  not  speak. 

They  got  him  to  the  gardener's  cottage  as  a  pre 
cautionary  measure,  and  telephoned  to  Utica  for  trained 
nurses,  and  to  Pride's  Fall  for  a  doctor.  Meanwhile, 
Hamil,  in  bed,  was  fast  becoming  mentally  irresponsible 
as  the  infection  spread,  involving  both  lungs,  and  the 
fever  in  his  veins  blazed  into  a  conflagration.  That  is 
one  way  that  pneumonia  begins ;  but  it  ought  not  to 
have  made  such  brutally  quick  work  of  a  young,  healthy, 
and  care-free  man.  There  was  not  much  chance  for 
him  by  the  next  morning,  and  less  the  following  night 
when  the  oxygen  tanks  arrived. 

Portlaw,  profoundly  shocked  and  still  too  stunned 
by  the  swiftness  of  the  calamity  to  credit  a  tragic 
outcome,  spent  the  day  in  a  heavily  bewildered  condi 
tion,  wandering,  between  meals,  from  his  house  to  the 
cottage  where  Hamil  lay,  and  back  again  to  the  tele 
phone. 

He  had  physicians  in  consultation  from  Utica  and 
Albany ;  lie  had  nurses  and  oxygen ;  he  had  Miss  Pal- 
liser  en  the  telephone,  first  in  New  York,  then  at  Albany, 
and  finally  at  Pride's  Fall,  to  tell  her  that  Hamil  was 
alive. 

She  arrived  after  midnight  with  Wayward.  Hamil 
was  still  breathing — if  it  could  be  called  by  that  name. 

Toward  dawn  a  long-distance  call  summoned  Port- 
law;  Malcourt  was  on  the  end  of  the  wire. 

"  Is  Hamil  ill  up  at  your  place?  " 

"  He  is,"  said  Portlaw  curtly. 

"Very  ill?" 

"  Very." 

"How  ill?" 

23  343 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Well,  he's  not  dead." 

"Portlaw,  is  he  dying?" 

"  They  don't  know  yet." 

"What  is  the  sickness?" 

"  Pneumonia.  I  wish  to  heaven  you  were  here ! " 
he  burst  out,  unable  to  suppress  his  smouldering  irrita 
tion  any  longer. 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  if  you  wanted  me " 

"  You  needn't  ask  such  a  fool  question.  Your 
house  is  here  for  you  and  the  servants  are  eating  their 
heads  off.  I  haven't  had  your  resignation  and  I  don't 
expect  it  while  we're  in  trouble.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Malcourt 
will  come  with  you,  of  course." 

«  Hold  the  wire." 

Portlaw  held  it  for  a  few  minutes,  then: 

"  Mr.  Portlaw  ?  " — scarcely  audible. 

"  Is  that  you,  Mrs.  Malcourt?  " 

"  Yes.  ...  Is  Mr.  Hamil  going  to  die?  " 

"  We  don't  know,  Mrs.  Malcourt.  We  are  doing 
all  we  can.  It  came  suddenly ;  we  were  caught  unpre 
pared " 

"  Suddenly,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  hit  him  like  a  bullet.  He  ought  to  have 
broken  the  journey  northward;  he  was  not  well  when 
he  arrived,  but  I  never  for  a  moment  thought " 

"  Mr.  Portlaw — please !  " 

"Yes?" 

"  Is  there  a  chance  for  him  ?  " 

"  The  doctors  refuse  to  say  so." 

"  Do  they  say  there  is  no  chance  ?  " 

"They  haven't  said  that,  Mrs.  Malcourt.  1 
think " 


Please,  Mr.  Portlaw  !w 
Yes,  madam !  " 

844 


A    NEW  ENEMY 


"  Will  you  listen  very  carefully,  please?  " 

"  Certainly " 

"  Mr.  Malcourt  and  I  are  leaving  on  the  10.20. 
You  will  please  consult  your  time-table  and  keep  us 
informed  at  the  following  stations — have  you  a  pencil 
to  write  them  down?  .  .  .  Are  you  ready  now?  Os- 
sining,  Hudson,  Albany,  Fonda,  and  Pride's  Fall. 
.  .  .  Thank  you.  .  .  .  Mr.  Malcourt  wishes  you  to 
send  the  Morgan  horses.  ...  If  there  is  any  change  in 
Mr.  Hamil's  condition  before  the  train  leaves  the  Grand 
Central  at  10.20,  let  me  know.  I  will  be  at  the  telephone 
station  until  the  last  moment.  Telegrams  for  the  train 
should  be  directed  to  me  aboard  "  The  Seminole  " — the 
private  car  of  Mr.  Cardross.  ...  Is  all  this  clear? 
.  .  .  Thank  you." 

With  a  confused  idea  that  he  was  being  ordered 
about  too  frequently  of  late  Portlaw  waddled  off  bed- 
ward;  but  sleep  eluded  him;  he  lay  there  watching 
through  his  window  the  light  in  the  window  of  the  sick 
room  where  Hamil  lay  fighting  for  breath;  and  some 
times  he  quivered  all  over  in  scared  foreboding,  and 
sometimes  the  thought  that  Malcourt  was  returning 
seemed  to  ease  for  a  moment  the  dread  load  of  re 
sponsibility  that  was  already  playing  the  mischief  with 
his  digestion. 

A  curry  had  started  it;  a  midnight  golden-buck 
superimposed  upon  a  miniature  mince  pie  had,  to  his 
grief  and  indignation,  continued  an  outrageous  con 
spiracy  against  his  liver  begun  by  the  shock  of  Hamil's 
illness.  But  what  completed  his  exasperation  was  the 
indifference  of  the  physicians  attending  Hamil  who  did 
not  seem  to  appreciate  the  gravity  of  an  impaired  diges 
tive  system,  or  comprehend  that  a  man  who  couldn't 
enjoy  eating  might  as  well  be  in  Hamil's  condition;  and 

345 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Portlaw  angrily  swallowed  the  calomel  so  indifferently 
shoved  toward  him  and  hunted  up  Wayward,  to  whom 
he  aired  his  deeply  injured  feelings. 

"  What  you  need  are  '  Drover's  Remedies,' "  ob 
served  Wayward,  peering  at  him  through  his  speo 
tacles;  and  Portlaw  unsuspiciously  made  a  memoran 
dum  of  the  famous  live-stock  and  kennel  panacea  for 
future  personal  emergencies. 

The  weather  was  unfavourable  for  Hamil;  a  raw, 
\ret  wind  rattled  the  windows ;  the  east  lowered  thick 
and  gray  with  hurrying  clouds ;  volleys  of  chilly  rain 
swept  across  the  clearing  from  time  to  time. 

Portlaw  and  Wayward  sat  most  of  the  time  in  the 
big  living-room  playing  "  Canfield."  There  was  noth 
ing  else  to  do  except  to  linger  somewhere  within  call, 
and  wait.  Constance  Palliser  remained  near  whichever 
nurse  happened  to  be  off  duty,  and  close  enough  to  the 
sick-room  to  shudder  at  what  she  heard  from  within, 
all  day,  all  night,  ceaselessly  ominous,  pitiable,  heart 
breaking. 

At  length  Wayward  took  her  away  without  cere 
mony  into  the  open  air. 

"  Look  here,  Constance,  your  sitting  there  and 
hearing  such  things  isn't  helping  Garry.  Lansdale  is 
doing  everything  that  can  be  done ;  Miss  Race  and  Miss 
Clay  are  competent.  You're  simply  frightening  your 
self  sick " 

She  protested,  but  he  put  her  into  a  hooded  ulster, 
buckled  on  her  feet  a  pair  of  heavy  carriage  boots,  and 
drew  her  arm  under  his,  saying:  "If  there's  a  chance 
Garry  is  having  it,  and  you've  got  to  keep  your 
strength.  ...  I  wish  this  mist  would  clear;  Hooper 
telephoned  to  Pride's  for  the  weather  bulletin,  but  it  is 
not  encouraging." 

346 


A    NEW   ENEMY 


They  walked  about  for  an  hour  and  finally  returned 
from  the  wet  woodland  paths  to  the  bridge,  leaning  on 
the  stone  parapet  together. 

A  swollen  brook  roared  under  the  arches,  carrying 
on  its  amber  wave-crests  tufts  of  green  grass  and  young 
leaves  and  buds  which  the  promise  of  summer  had  ten 
derly  unfolded  to  the  mercy  of  a  ruthless  flood. 

"  Like  those  young  lives  that  go  out  too  early," 
murmured  Constance.  "  See  that  little  wind-flower, 
Jim,  uprooted,  drowning — and  that  dead  thing  tum 
bling  about  half  under  water " 

Wayward  laid  a  firm  hand  across  hers. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  morbid,"  she  said  with  a 
pathetic  upward  glance,  "  but,  Jim,  it  is  too  awful  to 
hear  him  fighting  for  just — just  a  chance  to  breathe  a 
little " 

"  I  think  he's  going  to  get  well,"  said  Wayward. 

"  Jim!     Why  do  you  think  it?     Has  any " 

"  No.  ...  I  just  think  it." 

"  Is  there  any  reason " 

"  None — except  you." 

His  voice  within  the  last  month  or  two  had  almost 
entirely  lost  its  indisti-nct  and  husky  undertone ;  the  clear 
resonant  quality,  which  had  always  thrilled  her  a  little 
as  a  young  girl,  seemed  to  be  returning;  and  now  she 
felt,  faintly,  the  old  response  awaking  within  her. 

"  It  is  very  sweet  of  you  to  believe  he'll  live  because 
I  love  him,"  she  said  gently. 

Wayward  drew  his  hand  from  hers  and,  folding  his 
arms,  leaned  on  the  parapet  inspecting  the  turbid  water 
through  his  spectacles. 

"  There  are  no  fights  too  desperate  to  be  won,"  he 
said.  "  The  thing  to  do  is  to  finish— still  fighting!  " 

"Jim?" 

347 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Yes." 

This  time  her  hand  sought  his,  drew  it  toward  her, 
and  covered  it  with  both  of  hers. 

"  Jim,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  there  is  something— 
I  am  horribly  afraid — that — perhaps  Garry  is  not  fight 
ing." 

"  Why?  "  he  asked  bluntly. 

"  There  was  an — an  attachment w 

"A  what?" 

"  An  unfortunate  affair ;  he  was  very  deeply  in 
love " 

"  Not  ridiculously,  I  hope !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  .  .  .  He  cared  more 
than  I  have  believed  possible;  I  saw  him  in  New  York 
on  his  way  here  and,  Jim,  he  must  have  known  then, 
for  he  looked  like  death " 

"  You  mean  he  was  in  love  with  that  Cardross  girl?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes !  ...  I  do  not  understand  the  affair ; 
but  I  tell  you,  Jim,  the  strangest  part  was  that  the 
girl  loved  him!  If  ever  a  woman  was  in  love  with  a 
man,  Shiela  Cardross  was  in  love  with  Garry!  I  tell 
you  I  know  it;  I  am  not  guessing,  not  hazarding  an 
opinion;  I  know  it.  ...  And  she  married  Louis  Mai- 
court!  .  .  .  And,  Jim,  I  have  been  so  frightened — so 
terrified — for  Garry — so  afraid  that  he  might  not  care 
to  fight " 

Wayward  leaned  there  heavily  and  in  silence.  Ha 
was  going  to  say  that  men  do  not  do  such  things  for 
women  any  longer,  but  he  thought  of  the  awful  battle 
not  yet  ended  which  he  had  endured  for  the  sake  of 
the  woman  beside  him ;  and  he  said  nothing ;  because 
he  knew  that,  without  hope  of  her  to  help  him,  the 
battle  had  long  since  gone  against  him.  But  Garry 
had  nothing  to  fight  for,  if  what  Constance  said  was 

348 


A    NEW   ENEMY 


true.  And  within  him  his  latent  distrust  and  contempt 
for  Malcourt  blazed  up,  tightening  the  stern  lines  of 
his  sun-burnt  visage. 

Portlaw  says  that  Louis  is  coming  to-night,  and 
that  young  Mrs.  Malcourt  is  with  him,"  he  observed. 

"  I  know  it.  ...  I  was  wondering  if  there  was  any 
way  we  could  use  her — make  use  of  her " 

"  To  stir  up  Garry  to  fight?  " 

"  Y-yes — something  like  that — I  am  vague  about  it 
myself — if  it  could  be  done  without  anybody  suspect 
ing  the —  O  Jim ! — I  don't  know ;  I  am  only  a  half- 
crazed  woman  willing  to  do  anything  for  my  boy " 

"  Certainly.  If  there's  anything  that  might  bene 
fit  Garry  you  need  not  hesitate  on  account  of  that 
little  beast  Malcourt " 

She  said  in  her  gentle,  earnest  way :  "  Louis  Mal 
court  is  so  very  strange.  He  has  treated  Virginia 
dreadfully;  they  were  engaged — they  must  have  been 
or  she  could  not  have  gone  all  to  pieces  the  way  she 
has.  ...  I  cannot  understand  it,  Jim " 

"  What's  Louis  coming  here  for?  " 

"  Mr.  Portlaw  begged  him  to  come " 

"  What  for?  Oh,  well,  I  guess  I  can  answer  that 
for  myself;  it's  to  save  Portlaw  some  trouble  or 
other " 

"  You  are  very  hard  on  people — very  intolerant, 
sometimes " 

"  I  have  no  illusions  concerning  the  unselfishness  of 
Billy  Portlaw.  Look  at  him  tagging  after  the  doctors 
and  bawling  for  pills! — with  Garry  lying  there!  He 
hustled  him  into  a  cottage,  too " 

"  He  was  quite  right,  Jim.  Garry  is  better 
off " 

"  So's  William.  Don't  tell  me,  Constance ;  he's  al- 
349 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


ways  been  the  same;  he  never  really  cared  for  anybody 
in  all  his  life  except  Louis  Malcourt.  But  it's  a  jolly, 
fat,  good-humoured  beast,  and  excellent  company  aboard 
the  Arianil"  .  .  .  He  was  silent  a  moment,  then  his 
voice  deepened  to  a  clear,  gentle  tone,  almost  tender: 
"  You've  been  rained  on  enough,  now ;  come  in  by  the 
fire  and  I'll  bring  you  the  latest  news  from  Garry." 

But  when  he  returned  to  the  fire  where  Constance 
and  Portlaw  sat  in  silence,  the  report  he  brought  was 
only  negative.  A  third  doctor  from  Albany  arrived 
at  nightfall  and  left  an  hour  later.  He  was  non 
committal  and  in  a  hurry,  and  very,  very  famous. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

REINFORCEMENTS 

day  Portlaw  had  been  telephoning  and  tele 
graphing  the  various  stations  along  the  New  York  Cen 
tral  Railroad,  following  the  schedule  from  his  time-table 
and  from  the  memoranda  given  him  by  young  Mrs. 
Malcourt ;  and  now  the  big,  double,  covered  buckboard 
and  the  fast  horses,  which  had  been  sent  to  meet  them 
at  Pride's,  was  expected  at  any  moment. 

"  At  least,"  Portlaw  confided  with  a  subdued  anima 
tion  to  Wayward,  "  we're  going  to  have  a  most  excellent 
dinner  for  them  when  they  arrive.  My  Frenchman  is 
doing  the  capons  in  Louis  XI  style " 

"  Somebody,"  said  Wayward  pleasantly,  "  will  do 
you  in  the  same  style  some  day."  And  he  retired  to 
dress,  laughing  in  an  odd  way.  But  Portlaw  searched 
in  vain  for  the  humour  which  he  had  contrived  some 
how  to  miss.  He  also  missed  Malcourt  on  such  occa 
sions — Malcourt  whose  nimble  intelligence  never  missed 
a  trick ! 

"  Thank  the  Lord  he's  coming !  "  he  breathed  de 
voutly.  "  It's  bad  enough  to  have  a  man  dying  on  the 
premises  without  having  an  earthly  thing  to  do  while 
he's  doing  it.  ...  I  can  see  no  disrespect  to  Hamil  if 
we  play  a  few  cards  now  and  then." 

His  valet  was  buttoning  him  up  when  Malcourt  ar 
rived  and  walked  coolly  into  his  room. 

351 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"Louis!  Damnation!"  ejaculated  Portlaw,  purple 
with  emotion. 

"  Especially  the  latter,"  nodded  Malcourt.  "  They 
tell  me,  below,  that  Hamil  is  very  sick;  wait  a  mo 
ment! — Mrs.  Malcourt  is  in  my  house;  she  is  to  have 
it  for  herself.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Y-yes " 

"  All  right.  I  take  my  old  rooms  here  for  the 
present.  Tell  Williams.  Mrs.  Malcourt  has  brought  a 
maid  and  another  trained  nurse  for  emergencies.  She 
wanted  to;  and  that's  enough." 

"  Lord,  but  I'm  glad  you've  come !  "  said  Portlaw, 
forgetting  all  the  reproaches  and  sarcasms  he  had  been 
laboriously  treasuring  to  discharge  at  his  superin 
tendent. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Malcourt  drily.  "  And  I  say ;  we 
didn't  know  anybody  else  was  here " 

"  Only  his  aunt  and  Wayward " 

Malcourt  cast  a  troubled  glance  around  the  room, 
repeating :  "  I  didn't  understand  that  anybody  was  here." 

"What  difference  does  that  make?  You're  coming 
back  to  stay,  aren't  you?  " 

Malcourt  looked  at  him.  "  That's  supposed  to  be 
the  excuse  for  our  coming.  .  .  .  Certainly;  I'm  your 
superintendent,  back  from  a  fortnight's  leave  to  get 
Tiarried  in.  ...  That's  understood."  .  .  .  And,  step 
ping  nearer :  "  There's  hell  to  pay  in  town.  Have  you 
seen  the  papers?  " 

"  Not  to-day's " 

"They're  down-stairs.  Wormly,  Hunter  &  Blake 
have  failed — liabilities  over  three  million.  There's  prob 
ably  going  to  be  a  run  on  the  Shoshone  Securities  Com 
pany;  Andreas  Hogg  and  Gumble  Brothers  have  laid 

down  on  their  own  brokers  and  the  Exchange  has " 

352 


REINFORCEMENTS 


"What!" 

"  A  nice  outlook,  isn't  it?  Be  careful  what  you  say 
before  Mrs.  Malcourt;  she  doesn't  realise  that  Car- 
dross,  Carrick  &  Co.  may  be  involved." 

Portlaw  said  with  that  simple  self-centred  dignity 
which  characterised  him  in  really  solemn  moments: 
"  Thank  God,  I'm  in  an  old-line  institution  and  own 
nothing  that  can  ever  pass  a  dividend ! " 

"  Even  your  hens  pay  their  daily  dole,"  nodded 
Malcourt,  eyeing  him. 

"  Certainly.  If  they  don't,  it's  a  fricassee  for 
theirs !  "  chuckled  Portlaw,  in  excellent  humour  over  his 
own  financial  security  in  time  of  stress. 

So  they  descended  to  the  living-room  together 
where  Constance  and  Wayward  stood  whispering  by  the 
fire.  Malcourt  greeted  them;  they  exchanged  a  few 
words  in  faultless  taste,  then  he  picked  an  umbrella  from 
the  rack  and  went  across  the  lawn  to  his  house  where 
his  bride  of  a  fortnight  awaited  him.  Portlaw  rubbed 
his  pudgy  hands  together  contentedly. 

"  Now  that  Louis  is  back,"  he  said  to  Wayward, 
"  this  place  will  be  run  properly  again." 

"  Is  it  likely,"  asked  Wayward,  "  that  a  man  who 
has  just  married  several  millions  will  do  duty  as  your 
superintendent  in  the  backwoods?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Portlaw,  with  his  head  on  one  side, 
"  do  you  know,  it  is  extremely  likely.  And  I  have  a 
vague  idea  that  he  will  draw  his  salary  with  great  regu 
larity  and  promptness." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about? "  said  Wayward 
bluntly. 

"  I'll  tell  you.  But  young  Mrs.  Malcourt  does  not 
know — and  she  is  not  to  be  told  as  long  as  it  can  be 
avoided:  Cardross,  Carrick  &  Co.  are  in  a  bad  way." 

353 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"How  bad?" 

"  The  worst — unless  the  Clearing  House  does  some 
thing " 

"  What !  " 

"  — And  it  won't !  Mark  my  words,  Wayward,  the 
Clearing  House  won't  lift  a  penny's  weight  from  the 
load  on  their  shoulders.  I  know.  There's  a  string  of 
banks  due  to  blow  up;  the  fuse  has  been  lighted,  and 
it's  up  to  us  to  stand  clear " 

"  Oh,  hush !  "  whispered  Constance  in  a  frightened 
voice;  the  door  swung  open;  a  gust  of  chilly  air  sent 
the  ashes  in  the  fireplace  whirling  upward  among  the 
leaping  flames. 

Young  Mrs.  Malcourt  entered  the  room. 

Her  gown,  which  was  dark — and  may  have  been 
black — set  off  her  dead-white  face  and  hands  in  a  con 
trast  almost  startling.  Confused  for  a  moment  by  the 
brilliancy  of  the  lamplight  she  stood  looking  around 
her ;  then,  as  Portlaw  waddled  forward,  she  greeted  him 
very  quietly;  recognised  and  greeted  Wayward,  and 
then  slowly  turned  toward  Constance. 

There  was  a  pause;  the  girl  took  a  hesitating  step 
forward ;  but  Miss  Palliser  met  her  more  than  half-way, 
took  both  her  hands,  and,  holding  them,  looked  her 
through  and  through. 

Malcourt's  voice  broke  in  gravely: 

"  It  is  most  unfortunate  that  my  return  to  duty 
should  happen  under  such  circumstances.  I  do  not 
think  there  is  any  man  in  the  world  for  whom  I 
have  the  respect — and  affection — that  I  have  for 
Hamil." 

Wayward  was  staring  at  him  almost  insolently; 
Portlaw,  comfortably  affected,  shook  his  head  in  pro 
found  sympathy,  glancing  sideways  at  the  door  where 

354 


REINFORCEMENTS 


his  butler  always  announced  dinner.  Constance  had 
heard,  but  she  looked  only  at  young  Mrs.  Malcourt. 
Shiela  alone  had  been  unconscious  of  the  voice  of  her 
lord  and  master. 

She  looked  bravely  back  into  the  golden-brown  eyes 
of  Miss  Palliser;  and,  suddenly  realising  that,  somehow, 
this  woman  knew  the  truth,  flinched  pitifully. 

But  Constance  crushed  the  slender,  colourless  hands 
in  her  own,  speaking  tremulously  low: 

"  Perhaps  he'll  have  a  chance  now.  I  am  so  thank 
ful  that  you've  come. 

"  Yes."  Her  ashy  lips  formed  the  word,  but  there 
was  no  utterance. 

Dinner  was  announced  with  a  decorous  modulation 
befitting  the  circumstances. 

Malcourt  bore  himself  faultlessly  during  the  try 
ing  function ;  Wayward  was  moody ;  his  cynical 
glance  through  his  gold-rimmed  glasses  resting  now 
on  Malcourt,  now  on  Shiela.  The  latter  ate  noth 
ing,  which  grieved  Portlaw  beyond  measure,  for 
the  salad  was  ambrosial  and  the  capon  was  truly 
Louis  XI. 

Later  the  men  played  Preference,  having  nothing 
else  to  do  after  the  ladies  left,  Constance  insisting  on 
taking  Shiela  back  to  her  own  house,  and  Malcourt  ac 
quiescing  in  the  best  of  taste. 

The  stars  were  out;  a  warm,  sweet,  dry  wind  had 
set  in  from  the  south-west. 

"  It  was  what  we've  prayed  for,"  breathed  Con 
stance,  pausing  on  the  lawn.  "  It  was  what  the  doc 
tors  wanted  for  him.  How  deliciously  warm  it  is !  Oh, 
I  hope  it  will  help  him !  " 

"  Is  that  his  cottage  ?  "  whispered  Shiela. 

"  Yea.  .  .  .  His  room  is  there  where  the  windows 
355 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


are  open.  .  .  .  They  keep  them  open,  you  know.  .  .  . 
Do  you  want  to  go  in  ?  " 

"Oh,  may  I  see  him!" 

"  No,  dear.  .  .  .  Only  I  often  sit  in  the  corridor 

outside.  .  .  .  But     perhaps    you     could    not    endure 

,*t » 

ll 

"Endure  what?" 

"  To  hear— to  listen— to  his— breathing " 

"  Let  me  go  with  you !  "  she  whispered,  clasping  her 
hands,  "  let  me  go  with  you,  Miss  Palliser.  I  will  be 
very  quiet,  I  will  do  whatever  you  tell  me — only  let  me 
go  with  you !  " 

Miss  Clay,  just  released  from  duty,  met  them  at 
the  door. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  say,"  she  said ;  "  of  course 
every  hour  he  holds  out  is  an  hour  gained.  The  weather 
is  more  favourable.  Miss  Race  will  show  you  the 
chart." 

As  Shiela  entered  the  house  the  ominous  sounds 
from  above  struck  her  like  a  blow;  she  caught  her 
breath  and  stood  perfectly  still,  one  hand  pressing 
her  breast. 

"  That  is  not  as  bad  as  it  has  been,"  whispered  Con 
stance,  and  noiselessly  mounted  the  stairs. 

Shiela  crept  after  her  and  halted  as  though  para 
lysed  when  the  elder  woman  pointed  at  a  door  which 
hung  just  ajar.  Inside  the  door  stood  a  screen  and  a 
shaded  electric  jet.  A  woman's  shadow  moved  across 
the  wall  within. 

Without  the  slightest  noise  Constance  sank  down 
on  the  hallway  sofa;  Shiela  crept  up  close  beside  her, 
closer,  when  the  dreadful  sounds  broke  out  again,  trem 
bling  in  every  limb,  pressing  her  head  convulsively 
against  the  elder  woman's  arm. 

356 


REINFORCEMENTS 


Young  Dr.  Lansdale  came  up-stairs  an  hour  later, 
nodded  to  Constance,  looked  sharply  at  Shiela,  then 
turned  to  the  nurse  who  had  forestalled  him  at  the 
door.  A  glance  akin  to  telepathy  flashed  between  phy 
sician  and  nurse,  and  the  doctor  turned  to  Miss  Pal- 
liser : 

"  Would  you  mind  asking  Miss  Clay  to  come  back?  n 
he  said  quietly.  "  Oh ! — has  she  gone  to  bed  ?  " 

Shiela  was  on  her  feet :  "  I — I  have  brought  a 
trained  nurse,"  she  said ;  "  the  very  best — from  Johns 
Hopkins " 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  her  for  a  few  mo 
ments,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  at  the  chart  by  the 
light  of  the  hall  lamp. 

Shiela  sped  down  the  stairs  like  a  ghost;  the  nurse 
re-entered  the  room ;  the  doctor  turned  to  follow,  and 
halted  short  as  a  hand  touched  his  arm. 

"Dr.  Lansdale?" 

He  nodded  pleasantly. 

"  Does  it  do  any  good — when  one  is  very,  very  ill 
—to  see " 

The  doctor  made  a  motion  with  his  head.  "  Who  is 
that  young  girl?  "  he  asked  coolly. 

"  Mrs.  Malcourt " 

"  Oh !  I  thought  it  might  have  been  this  Shiela 
he  is  always  talking  about  in  his  delirium " 

"  It  is"  whispered  Constance. 

For  a  moment  they  looked  one  another  in  the  eyes ; 
then  a  delicate  colour  stole  over  the  woman's  face. 

"  I'm  afraid — I'm  afraid  that  my  boy  is  not  mak 
ing  the  fight  he  could  make,"  she  whispered, 

"Why  not?" 

She  was  speechless. 

"Why  not\"  .  .  .  And  in  a  lower  voice:  "This 
357 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


corridor  is  a  confessional,  Miss  Palliser — if  that  helps 
you  any." 

She  said :  "  They  were  in  love." 

"Oh!     Are  they  yet?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh !     She  married  the  other  man  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"Oh!" 

Young  Lansdale  wheeled  abruptly  and  entered  the 
sick-room.  Shiela  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with  her 
nurse,  a  quick-stepping,  cool-eyed  young  woman  in 
spotless  uniform.  A  few  minutes  afterward  the  sounds 
indicated  that  oxygen  was  being  used. 

An  hour  later  Miss  Race  came  into  the  hallway  and 
looked  at  Shiela. 

"  Mr.  Harml  is  conscious,"  she  said.  "  Would  you 
care  to  see  him  for  a  second?  " 

A  dreadful  fear  smote  her  as  she  crouched  there 
speechless. 

"  The  danger  of  infection  is  slight,"  said  the  nurse 
— and  knew  at  the  same  instant  that  she  had  misunder 
stood.  "Did  you  think  I  meant  he  is  dying?"  she 
added  gently  as  Shiela  straightened  up  to  her  slender 
height. 

u  Is  he  better?  "  whispered  Constance. 

"  He  is  conscious,"  said  the  nurse  patiently.  "  He 
knows  " — turning  to  Shiela — "  that  you  are  here.  You 
must  not  speak  to  him;  you  may  let  him  see  you  for  a 
moment.  Come ! " 

In  the  shadowy  half-light  of  the  room  Shiela  halted 
at  a  sign  from  the  nurse;  the  doctor  glanced  up,  nod 
ding  almost  imperceptibly  as  the  girl's  eyes  fell  upon 
the  bed. 

How  she  did  it — what  instinct  moved  her,  what  un- 
358 


REINFORCEMENTS 


suspected  reserve  of  courage  prompted  her,  she  never 
understood ;  but  looking  into  the  dreadful  eyes  of 
death  itself  there  in  the  sombre  shadows  of  the  bed,  she 
smiled  with  a  little  gesture  of  gay  recognition,  then, 
turning,  passed  from  the  room. 

"Did  he  know  you?"  motioned  Constance. 

"  I  don't  know — I  don't  know.  ...  I  think  he  was 
— dying — before  he  saw  me " 

She  was  shuddering  so  violently  that  Constance 
could  scarcely  hold  her,  scarcely  guide  her  down  the 
stairs,  across  the  lawn  toward  her  own  house.  The 
doctor  overtook  and  passed  them  on  his  way  to  his  own 
quarters,  but  he  only  bowed  very  pleasantly,  and  would 
have  gone  on  except  for  the  soft  appeal  of  Constance. 

"  Miss  Palliser,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  know — if  you 
want  the  truth.  You  know  all  that  I  do ;  he  is  con 
scious — or  was.  I  expect  he  will  be,  at  intervals,  now. 
This  young  lady  behaved  admirably — admirably !  The 
thing  to  do  is  to  wait." 

He  glanced  at  Shiela,  hesitated,  then : 

"  Would  it  be  any  comfort  to  learn  that  he  knew 

you?" 

"  Yes.  .  .   .  Thank  you." 

The  doctor  nodded  and  said  in  a  hearty  voice :  "  Oh, 

we've  got  to  pull  him  through  somehow.     That's  what 

I'm  here  for."     And  he  went  away  briskly  across  the 

lawn. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  Constance  in 

a  low  voice. 

"  I  don't  know ;  write  to  my  father,  I  think." 
"You  ought  not  to  sit  up  after  such  a  journey." 
"  Do  you  suppose  I  could  sleep  to-night?  " 
Constance  drew  her  into  her  arms ;  the  girl  clung 

to  her,  head  hidden  on  her  breast. 
24  359 


THE  FIRING   LINE 


"  Shiela,  Shiela,"  she  murmured,  "  you  can  always 
come  to  me.  Always,  always ! — for  Garry's  sake.  .  .  . 
Listen,  child:  I  do  not  understand  your  tragedy — his 
and  yours — I  only  know  you  loved  each  other.  .  .  . 
Love — and  a  boy's  strange  ways  in  love  have  always 
been  to  me  a  mystery — a  sad  one,  Shiela.  .  .  .  For 
once  upon  a  time — there  was  a  boy — and  never  in  all 
my  life  another.  Dear,  we  women  are  all  born  mothers 
to  men — and  from  birth  to  death  our  heritage  is  mother 
hood — grief  for  those  of  us  who  bear — sadness  for  us 
who  shall  never  bear — mothers  to  sorrow  everyone.  .  .  . 
Do  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  That  is  forbidden  you,  now." 

"  It  was  forbidden  me  from  the  first ;  yet,  when  I 
saw  him  I  loved  him.  What  was  I  to  do?  " 

Constance  waited,  but  the  girl  had  fallen  silent. 

"  Is  there  more  you  wish  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  No  more." 

She  bent  and  kissed  the  cold  cheek  on  her  shoul 
der. 

"  Don't  sit  up,  child.  If  there  is  any  reason  for 
waking  you  I  will  come  myself." 

"Thank  you." 

So  they  parted,  Constance  to  seek  her  room  and  lie 
down  partly  dressed;  Shiela  to  the  new  quarters  still 
strange  and  abhorrent  to  her. 

Her  maid,  half  dead  with  fatigue,  slept  in  a  chair, 
and  young  Mrs.  Malcourt  aroused  her  and  sent  her  off 
to  bed.  Then  she  roamed  through  the  rooms,  striving 
to  occupy  her  mind  with  the  negative  details  of  the  fur 
nishing;  but  it  was  all  drearily  harmless,  unaccented 
anywhere  by  personal  taste,  merely  the  unmeaning 
harmony  executed  by  a  famous  New  York  decorator, 

360 


REINFORCEMENTS 


at  Portlaw's  request — a  faultless  monotony  from  garret 
to  basement. 

There  was  a  desk  in  one  room ;  ink  in  the  well,  note- 
paper  bearing  the  name  of  Portlaw's  camp.  She 
looked  at  it  and  passed  on  to  her  bedroom. 

But  after  she  had  unlaced  and,  hair  unbound,  stood 
staring  vacantly  about  her,  she  remembered  the  desk; 
and  drawing  on  her  silken  chamber-robe,  went  into  the 
writing-room. 

At  intervals,  during  her  writing,  she  would  rise  and 
gaze  from  the  window  across  the  darkness  where  in  the 
sick-room  a  faint,  steady  glow  remained ;  and  she  could 
see  the  white  curtains  in  his  room  stirring  like  ghosts 
in  the  soft  night  wind  and  the  shadow  of  the  nurse  on 
wall  and  ceiling. 

"  Dear,  dear  dad  and  mother,"  she  wrote ;  "  Mr. 
Portlaw  was  so  anxious  for  Louis  to  begin  his  duties 
that  we  decided  to  come  at  once,  particularly  as  we 
both  were  somewhat  worried  over  the  serious  illness  of 
Mr.  Hamil. 

"  He  is  very,  very  ill,  poor  fellow.  The  sudden 
change  from  the  South  brought  on  pneumonia.  I  know- 
that  you  both  and  Gray  and  Cecile  and  Jessie  will  feel 
as  sorry  as  I  do.  His  aunt,  Miss  Palliser,  is  here.  To 
night  I  was  permitted  to  see  him.  Only  his  eyes  were 
visible  and  they  were  wide  open.  It  is  very  dreadful, 
very  painful,  and  has  cast  a  gloom  over  our  gaiety. 

"  To-night  Dr.  Lansdale  said  that  he  would  pull 
him  through.  I  am  afraid  he  said  it  to  encourage  Miss 
Palliser. 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  place — "  She  dropped  her  pen 
with  a  shudder,  closed  her  eyes,  groped  for  it  again, 
and  forced  herself  to  continue — "  Mr.  Portlaw  is  very 

361 


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kind.  The  superintendent's  house  is  large  and  com 
fortable.  Louis  begins  his  duties  to-morrow.  Every 
thing  promises  to  be  most  interesting  and  enjoyable — " 
She  laid  her  head  in  her  arms,  remaining  so,  motionless 
until  somewhere  on  the  floor  below  a  clock  struck  mid 
night." 

At  last  she  managed  to  go  on: 

"  Dad,  dear ;  what  you  said  to  Louis  about  my  part 
of  your  estate  was  very  sweet  and  generous  of  you; 
but  I  do  not  want  it.  Louis  and  I  have  talked  it  over 
in  the  last  fortnight  and  we  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  you  must  make  no  provision  for  me  at  present. 
We  wish  to  begin  very  simply  and  make  our  own  way. 
Besides  I  know  from  something  I  heard  Acton  say  that 
even  very  wealthy  people  are  hard  pressed  for  ready 
money ;  and  so  Phil  Gatewood  acted  as  our  attorney  and 
Mr.  Cuyp's  firm  as  our  brokers  and  now  the  Union 
Pacific  and  Government  bonds  have  been  transferred 
to  Colonel  Vetchen's  bank  subject  to  your  order — is 
that  the  term? — and  the  two  blocks  on  Lexington 
Avenue  now  stand  in  your  name,  and  Cuyp,  Van  Dine, 
and  Siclen  sold  all  those  queer  things  for  me — the  In 
dustrials,  I  think  you  call  them — and  I  endorsed  a  sheaf 
of  certified  checks,  making  them  all  payable  to  your 
order. 

"  Dad,  dear — I  cannot  take  anything  of  that  kind 
from  you.  ...  I  am  very,  very  tired  of  the  things 
/  that  money  buys.  All  I  shall  ever  care  for  is  the  quiet 
of  unsettled  places,  the  silence  of  the  hills,  where  I  can 
study  and  read  and  live  out  the  life  I  am  fitted  for. 
The  rest  is  too  complex,  too  tiresome  to  keep  up  with 
or  even  to  wafch  from  my  windows. 

"  Dear  dad  and  dear  mother,  I  am  a  little  anxious 
about  what  Acton  said  to  Gray — about  money  troubles 

362 


REINFORCEMENTS 


that  threaten  wealthy  people.  And  so  it  makes  me  very 
happy  to  know  that  the  rather  overwhelming  fortune 
which  you  so  long  ago  set  aside  for  me  to  accumulate 
until  my  marriage  is  at  last  at  your  disposal  again. 
Because  Gray  told  me  that  Acton  was  forced  to  bor 
row  such  frightful  sums  at  such  ruinous  rates.  And 
now  you  need  borrow  no  more,  need  you? 

"  You  have  been  so  good  to  me  —  both  of  you.  I 
am  afraid  you  won't  believe  how  dearly  I  love  you. 
I  don't  very  well  see  how  you  can  believe  it.  But  it  is 
true. 

"  The  light  in  Mr.  Hamil's  sick-room  seems  to  be 
out.  I  am  going  to  ask  what  it  means. 

"  Good-night,   my  darling   two  —  I  will   write   you 


She  was  standing,  looking  out  across  the  night  at 
the  darkened  windows  of  the  sick-room,  her  sealed  letter 
in  her  hand,  when  she  heard  the  lower  door  open  and 
shut,  steps  on  the  stairs  —  and  turned  to  face  her  hus 
band. 

"W-what  is  it?"  she  faltered. 

"  What  is  what  ?  "  he  asked  coolly. 

"  The  reason  there  is  no  light  in  Mr.  Hamil's  win 
dows?" 

"  He's  asleep,"  said  Malcourt  in  a  dull  voice. 

"  Louis  !     Are  you  telling  me  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  I'd  tell  you  if  he  were  dead.  He  isn't. 
Lansdale  thinks  there  is  a  slight  change  for  the  better. 
So  I  came  to  tell  you." 

Every  tense  nerve  and  muscle  in  her  body  seemed 
to  give  way  at  the  same  instant  as  she  dropped  to  the 
lounge.  For  a  moment  her  mind  was  only  a  confused 
void,  then  the  routine  instinct  of  self-control  asserted 

363 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


itself;  she  made  the  effort  required  of  her,  groping  for 
composure  and  self-command. 

"  He  is  better,  you  say?  " 

"  Lansdale  said  there  was  a  change  which  might 
be  slightly  favourable.  ...  I  wish  I  could  say  more 
than  that,  Shiela." 

"But — he  is  better,   then?" — pitifully  persistent. 

Malcourt  looked  at  her  a  moment.  "  Yes,  he  is  bet 
ter.  I  believe  it." 

For  a  few  moments  they  sat  there  in  silence. 

"  That  is  a  pretty  gown,"  he  said  pleasantly. 

"  What !  Oh !  "  Young  Mrs.  Malcourt  bent  her 
head,  gazing  fixedly  at  the  sealed  letter  in  her  hand. 
The  faint  red  of  annoyance  touched  her  pallor — per 
haps  because  her  chamber-robe  suggested  an  informality 
between  them  that  was  impossible. 

"  I  have  written  to  my  father  and  mother,"  she 
said,  "  about  the  securities." 

"  Have  you  ?  "  he  said  grimly. 

"  Yes.  And,  Louis,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Mr. 
Cuyp  telephoned  me  yesterday  assuring  me  that  every 
thing  had  been  transferred  and  recorded  and  that  my 
father  could  use  everything  in  an  emergency — if  it 
comes  as  you  thought  possible.  .  .  .  And  I — I  wish  to 
say  " — she  went  on  in  a  curiously  constrained  voice — 
"  that  I  appreciate  what  you  have  done — what  you  so 
willingly  gave  up " 

An  odd  smile  hovered  on  Malcourt's  lips: 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said.  "  One  couldn't  give  up  what 
one  never  had  and  never  wanted.  .  .  .  And  you  say  that 
it  was  all  available  yesterday?  " 

"  Available !  " 

"  At  the  order  of  Cardross,  Carrick  &  Co.?  " 

"  Mr.  Cuyp  said  so." 

364 


REINFORCEMENTS 


"  You  made  over  all  those  checks  to  them?  " 

"  Yes.     Mr.  Cuyp  took  them  away." 

"  And  that  Lexington  Avenue  stuff?  " 

"  Deeded  and  recorded." 

"The  bonds?" 

"  Everything  is  father's  again." 

"Was  it  yesterday?" 

"Yes.     Why?" 

"  You  are  absolutely  certain  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Cuyp  said  so." 

Malcourt  slowly  rolled  a  cigarette  and  held  it,  un- 
lighted,  in  his  nervous  fingers.  Young  Mrs.  Malcourt 
watched  him,  but  her  mind  was  on  other  things. 

Presently  he  rose,  and  she  looked  up  as  though 
startled  painfully  from  her  abstraction. 

"  You  ought  to  turn  in,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Good 
night." 

"  Good  night." 

He  went  out  and  started  to  descend  the  stairs ;  but 
somebody  was  banging  at  the  lower  door,  entering 
clumsily,  and  in  haste. 

"  Louis !  "  panted  Portlaw,  "  they  say  Hamil  is 
dying " 

"  Damn  you,"  whispered  Malcourt  fiercely,  "  will 
you  shut  your  cursed  mouth !  " 

Then  slowly  he  turned,  leaden-footed,  head  hang 
ing,  and  ascended  the  stairs  once  more  to  the  room 
where  his  wife  had  been.  She  was  standing  there,  pale 
as  a  corpse,  struggling  into  a  heavy  coat. 

"Did  you— hear?" 

"  Yes." 

He  aided  her  with  her  coat. 

"Do  you  think  you  had  better  go  over?" 

"  Yes,  I  must  go." 

865 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


She  was  trembling  so  that  he  could  scarcely  get  her 
into  the  coat. 

"  Probably,"  he  said,  "  Portlaw  doesn't  know  what 
he's  talking  about.  .  .  .  Shiela,  do  you  want  me  to  go 
with  you — 

"  No— no !     Oh,  hurry " 

She  was  crying  now;  he  saw  that  she  was  breaking 
down. 

"  Wait  till  I  find  your  shoes.  You  can't  go  that 
way.  Wait  a  moment " 

«No— no!" 

He  followed  her  to  the  stairs,  but: 

"  No — no !  "  she  sobbed,  pushing  him  back ;  "  I  want 
him  to  myself.  Can't  they  let  me  have  him  even  when 
he  is  dying?  " 

"  You  can't  go !  "  he  said. 

She  turned  on  him  quivering,  beside  herself. 

"  Not  in  this  condition — for  your  own  sake,"  he  re 
peated  steadily.  And  again  he  said :  "  For  the  sake  of 
your  name  in  the  years  to  come,  Shiela,  you  cannot  go 
to  him  like  this.  Control  yourself." 

She  strove  to  pass  him ;  all  her  strength  was  leaving 
her. 

"  You  coward !  "  she  gasped. 

**  I  thought  you  would  mistake  me,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  People  usually  do.  ...  Sit  down." 

For  a  while  she  lay  sobbing  in  her  arm-chair,  white 
hands  clinched,  biting  at  her  lips  to  choke  back  the 
terror  and  grief. 

"  As  soon  as  your  self-command  returns  my  com 
mands  are  void,"  he  said  coolly.  "  Nobody  here  shall 
see  you  as  you  are.  If  you  can't  protect  yourself  it's 
my  duty  to  do  it  for  you.  .  .  .  Do  you  want  Portlaw 
to  see  you? — Wayward? — these  doctors  and  nurses  and 


REINFORCEMENTS 


servants?  How  long  would  it  take  for  gossip  to  reach 
your  family  !  .  .  .  And  what  you've  done  for  their  sakes 
would  be  a  crime  instead  of  a  sacrifice !  " 

She  looked  up ;  he  continued  his  pacing  to  and  fro 
but  said  no  more. 

After  a  while  she  rose ;  an  immense  lassitude  weighted 
her  limbs  and  body. 

"  I  think  I  am  fit  to  go  now,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Use  a  sponge  and  cold  water  and  fix  your  hair 
and  put  on  your  shoes,"  he  said.  "  By  the  time  you 
are  ready  I'll  be  back  with  the  truth." 

She  was  blindly  involved  with  her  tangled  hair  when 
she  heard  him  on  the  stairs  again — a  quick,  active  step 
that  she  mistook  for  haste;  and  hair  and  arms  fell  as 
she  turned  to  confront  him. 

"  It  was  a  sinking  crisis ;  they  got  him  through — 
both  doctors.  I  tell  you,  Shiela,  things  look  better,"  he 
said  cheerily. 


CHAPTER 

THB    mOLX    r*T.T. 


A*  in  similar  cases  of  the  same  disease  Hamil's 
progress  toward  recovery  was  scarcely  appreciable  for 
a  fortnight  or  so,  then,  danger  of  reinfection  practi 
cally  over,  convalescence  began  with  the  new  moon  of 
llaj. 

Other  things  also  began  about  that  time,  including  a 
lawsuit  against  Portlaw,  the  lilacs,  jonquils,  and  apple- 
blossoms  in  Shiela's  garden,  and  Malcourt's  capricious 
journeys  to  New  York  on  business  concerning  which  he 
offered  no  explanation  to  anybody. 

The  summons  bidding  William  Van  Beuren  Portlaw 
of  Camp  Chickadee,  town  of  Pride's  Fall,  Horican 
County,  New  York,  to  defend  a  suit  for  damages  arising 
from  trespass,  tree-felling,  the  malicious  diversion  of  the 
waters  of  Painted  Creek,  the  wilful  and  deliberate  kill 
ing  of  game,  the  flooding  of  wild  meadow  lands  in 
contemptuous  disregard  of  riparian  rights  and  the 
drowning  of  certain  sheep  thereby,  had  been  impending 
since  the  return  from  Florida  to  her  pretty  residence 
at  Pride's  Fall  of  Mrs.  Alida  Ascott. 

Trouble  had  begun  the  previous  autumn  with  a  lively 
exchange  of  notes  between  them  concerning  the  shoot 
ing  of  woodcock  on  Mrs.  Ascotfs  side  of  the  boundary. 
Then  Portlaw  stupidly  built  a  dam  and  diverted  the 
waters  of  Painted  Creek.  Having  been  planned,  de- 

G6S 


"You  can't  go!'  he  said." 


THE   ROLL   CALL 


signed,  and  constructed  according  to  Portlaw's  own 
calculations,  the  dam  presently  burst  and  the  escaping 
flood  drowned  some  of  Mrs.  Ascott's  sheep.  Then  some 
body  cut  some  pine  timber  on  her  side  of  the  line  and 
Mrs.  Ascott's  smouldering  indignation  flamed. 

Personally  she  and  Portlaw  had  been  rather  fond  of 
one  another;  and  to  avoid  trouble  incident  on  hot  tem 
per  Alida  Ascott  decamped,  intending  to  cool  off  in  the 
Palm  Beach  surf  and  think  it  over;  but  she  met  Port- 
law  at  Palm  Beach  that  winter,  and  Portlaw  dodged  the 
olive  branch  and  neglected  her  so  selfishly  that  she 
determined  then  and  there  upon  his  punishment,  now 
long  overdue. 

"  My  Lord ! "  said  Portlaw  plaintively  to  Malcourt, 
"  I  had  no  idea  she'd  do  such  a  thing  to  me ;  had 
you?" 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  she  would?  "  said  Malcourt.  «*  I 
know  women  better  than  you  do,  though  you  don't  be 
lieve  it." 

"  But  I  thought  she  was  rather  fond  of  me ! "  pro 
tested  Portlaw  indignantly. 

"  That  may  be  the  reason  she's  going  to  chasten  you, 
friend.  Don't  come  bleating  to  me;  I  advised  you  to 
be  attentive  to  her  at  Palm  Beach,  but  you  sulked  and 
stood  about  like  a  baby-hippopotamus  and  pouted  and 
shot  your  cuffs.  I  warned  you  to  be  agreeable  to  her, 
but  you  preferred  the  Beach  Club  and  pigeon  shoot 
ing.  It's  easy  enough  to  amuse  yourself  and  be  de 
cent  to  a  nice  woman  too.  Even  I  can  combine  those 
things." 

"  Didn't  I  go  to  that  lawn  party?  " 

"  Yes,  and  scarcely  spoke  to  her.  And  never  went 
near  her  afterward.  Now  she's  mad  all  through." 

"  Well,  I  can  get  mad,  too " 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  No,  you're  too  plump  to  ever  become  angry " 

"  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  submit  to " 

"  You'll  submit  all  right  when  they've  dragged  you 
twenty-eight  miles  to  the  county  court  house  once  or 
twice." 

"  Louis !  Are  you  against  me  too  ?  " — in  a  voice 
vibrating  with  reproach  and  self-pity. 

"  Now,  look  here,  William  Van  Beuren ;  your  guests 
did  shoot  woodcock  on  Mrs.  Ascott's  land " 

"  They're  migratory  birds,  confound  it !  " 

"  — And,"  continued  Malcourt,  paying  no  attention 
to  the  interruption,  "  you  did  build  that  fool  dam  re 
gardless  of  my  advice;  and  you  first  left  her  cattle 
waterless,  then  drowned  her  sheep " 

"  That  was  a  cloud-burst — an  act  of  God " 

"  It  was  a  dam-burst,  and  the  act  of  an  obstinate 
chump ! " 

"  Louis,  I  won't  let  anybody  talk  to  me  like  that!  " 

"  But  you've  just  done  it,  William." 

Portlaw,  in  a  miniature  fury,  began  to  run  around 
in  little  circles,  puffing  threats  which,  however,  he 
was  cautious  enough  to  make  obscure;  winding  up 
with: 

"  And  I  might  as  well  take  this  opportunity  to  ask 
you  what  3rou  mean  by  calmly  going  off  to  town  every 
ten  days  or  so  and  absenting  yourself  without  a  word 
of— 

"  Oh,  bosh,"  said  Malcourt ;  "  if  you  don't  want  me 
here,  Billy,  say  so  and  be  done  with  it." 

"  I  didn't  say  I  didn't  want  you " 

"  Well,  then,  let  me  alone.  I  don't  neglect  your 
business  and  I  don't  intend  to  neglect  my  own.  If  the 
time  comes  when  I  can't  attend  to  both  I'll  let  you  know 
soon  enough — perhaps  sooner  than  you  expect." 

370 


THE   ROLL    CALL 


"  You're  perfectly  welcome  to  go  to  town,"  insisted 
Portlaw,  alarmed. 

"  I  know  it,"  nodded  Malcourt  coolly.  "  Now,  if 
you'll  take  my  advice  you'll  behave  less  like  a  pig  in 
this  Ascott  matter." 

44  I'm  going  to  fight  that  suit " 

44  Certainly  fight  it.  But  not  the  way  you're  plan 
ning." 

"Well— how,  then?" 

44  Go  and  see  the  little  lady." 

"  See  Tier  ?     She  wouldn't  receive  me." 

44  Probably  not.  That's  unimportant.  For  heaven's 
sake,  Portlaw,  you're  becoming  chuckle-headed  with  all 
your  feeding  and  inertia  and  pampered  self-indulgence. 
You're  the  limit! — with  your  thirty-eight-inch  girth 
and  your  twin  chins  and  baby  wrists !  You  know,  it's 
pitiable  when  I  think  what  a  clean-cut,  decent-looking, 
decently  set-up  fellow  you  were  only  two  years  ago! — 
it's  enough  to  make  a  cat  sick ! " 

44  Can  I  help  what  I  look  like!"  bellowed  Portlaw 
wrath  fully. 

44  What  an  idiot  question ! "  said  Malcourt  with 
weary  patience.  44  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  cuddle 
yourself  less,  and  go  out  into  the  fresh  air  on  your 
ridiculous  legs " 

"Ridiculous!"  gasped  the  other.  "Well,  I'm 
damned  if  I  stand  that !" 

44  You  won't  be  able  to  stand  at  all  if  you  continue 
eating  and  sitting  in  arm-chairs.  You  don't  like  what 
I  say,  do  you?  "  with  easy  impudence.  "  Well,  I  said 
it  to  sting  you — if  there's  any  sensation  left  under  your 
hide.  And  I'll  say  something  else:  if  you'd  care  for 
somebody  beside  yourself  for  a  change  and  give  the 
overworked  Ego  a  vacation,  you'd  get  along  with  your 

371 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


pretty  neighbour  yonder.  Oh,  yes,  you  would ;  she  was 
quite  inclined  to  like  you  before  you  began  to  turn, 
physically,  into  a  stall-fed  prize  winner.  You're  only 
thirty-seven  or  eight ;  you've  a  reasonable  chance  yet 
to  exchange  obesity  for  perspicacity  before  it  smothers 
what  intellect  remains.  And  if  you're  anything  except 
what  you're  beginning  to  resemble  you'll  stop  sharp, 
behave  yourself,  go  to  see  your  neighbour,  and  " — with 
a  shrug — "  marry  her.  Marriage — as  easy  a  way  out 
of  trouble  as  it  is  in." 

He  swung  carelessly  on  his  heel,  supple,  erect,  grace 
ful  as  always. 

"  But,"  he  threw  back  over  his  shoulder,  "  you'd  bet 
ter  acquire  the  rudiments  of  a  figure  before  you  go 
a-courting  Alida  Ascott."  And  left  Portlaw  sitting 
petrified  in  his  wadded  chair. 

Malcourt  strolled  on,  a  humorously  malicious  smile 
hovering  near  his  eyes,  but  his  face  grew  serious 
as  he  glanced  up  at  Hamil's  window .  He  had  not 
seen  Hamil  during  his  illness  or  his  convalescence — had 
made  no  attempt  to,  evading  lightly  the  casual  sug 
gestions  of  Portlaw  that  he  and  his  young  wife  pay 
Hamil  a  visit ;  nor  did  he  appear  to  take  anything 
more  than  a  politely  perfunctory  interest  in  the  sick 
man's  progress ;  yet  Constance  Palliser  had  often  seen 
him  pacing  the  lawn  under  Hamil's  window  long 
after  midnight  during  those  desperate  hours  when  the 
life-flame  scarcely  flickered — those  ominous  moments 
when  so  many  souls  go  out  to  meet  the  impending 
dawn. 

But  now,  in  the  later  stages  of  Hamil's  rapid  con 
valescence  which  is  characteristic  of  a  healthy  recovery 
from  that  unpleasant  malady,  Malcourt  avoided  the 
cottage,  even  ceased  to  inquire;  and  Hamil  had  never 

372 


THE   ROLL   CALL 


asked  to  see  him,  although,  for  appearance'  sake,  he 
knew  that  he  must  do  so  very  soon. 

Wayward  and  Constance  Palliser  were  visiting  Mrs. 
Ascott  at  Pride's  Fall;  young  Mrs.  Malcourt  had  been 
there  for  a  few  days,  but  was  returning  to  prepare  for 
the  series  of  house-parties  arranged  by  Portlaw  who 
had  included  Cecile  Cardross  and  Philip  Gatewood  in 
the  first  relay. 

As  for  Malcourt  there  was  no  counting  on  him ;  he 
was  likely  to  remain  for  several  days  at  any  of  the 
five  distant  gate-keepers'  lodges  across  the  mountains  or 
to  be  mousing  about  the  woods  with  wardens  and  for 
esters,  camping  where  convenient;  or  to  start  for  New 
York  without  explanation.  All  of  which  activity  an 
noyed  Portlaw,  who  missed  his  manager  at  table  and 
at  cards — missed  his  nimble  humour,  his  impudence,  his 
casual  malice — missed  even  the  paternal  toleration  which 
this  younger  man  bestowed  upon  him — a  sort  of  half- 
tolerant,  half-contemptuous  supervision. 

And  now  that  Malcourt  was  so  often  absent  Port- 
law  was  surprised  to  find  how  much  he  missed  the  veiled 
authority  exercised — how  dependent  on  it  he  had  be 
come,  how  secretly  agreeable  had  been  the  half-mocking 
discipline  which  relieved  him  of  any  responsibility  ex 
cept  as  over-lord  of  the  culinary  regime. 

Like  a  spoiled  school-lad,  badly  brought  up,  he 
sometimes  defied  Malcourt's  authority — as  in  the  mat 
ter  of  the  dam — enjoying  his  own  perversity.  But  he 
always  got  into  hot  water  and  was  glad  enough  to  re 
turn  to  safety. 

Even  now,  though  his  truancy  had  landed  him  in  a 
very  lively  lawsuit,  he  was  glad  enough  to  slink  back 
through  the  stinging  comments  to  the  security  of  au 
thority;  and  his  bellows  of  exasperation  under  reproof 

373 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


were  half  pretence.  He  expected  Malcourt  to  get  him 
out  of  it  if  he  could  not  extract  himself ;  he  had  no  idea 
of  defending  the  suit.  Besides  there  was  sufficient  vanity 
in  him  to  rely  on  a  personal  meeting  with  Mrs.  Ascott. 
But  he  laughed  in  his  sleeve  at  the  idea  of  the  necessity 
of  making  love  to  her. 

And  one  day  when  Hamil  was  out  for  the  third  or 
fourth  time,  walking  about  the  drives  and  lawns  in  the 
sunshine,  and  Malcourt  was  not  in  sight,  Portlaw  called 
for  his  riding-breeches  and  boots. 

He  had  not  been  on  a  horse  in  years  and  it  seemed 
as  though  only  faith  and  a  shoe-horn  could  get  him  into 
his  riding-breeches ;  but  with  the  aid  of  Heaven  and 
a  powerful  valet  he  stood  before  his  mirror  arrayed  at 
last ;  and  presently  went  out  across  the  lawn  and  through 
the  grove  to  Malcourt's  house. 

Young  Mrs.  Malcourt  in  pink  gingham  apron  and 
sun-bonnet  was  digging  with  a  trowel  in  her  garden 
when  he  appeared  upon  the  landscape. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  Louis,"  he  cautioned  her 
with  a  very  knowing  and  subtle  smile,  "  but  I'm  just 
going  to  ride  over  to  Pride's  this  morning  and  settle  this 
lawsuit  matter,  and  surprise  him." 

Shiela  had  straightened  up,  trowel  in  her  gloved 
hand,  and  now  stood  looking  at  him  in  amused  surprise. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  rode,"  she  said.  "  I  should 
think  it  would  be  very  good  for  you." 

"  Well,"  he  admitted,  turning  red,  "  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  ride  now  and  then.  Louis  has  been  at 
me  rather  viciously.  But  you  won't  tell  him,  will 
you?" 

"  No,"  said  Shiela. 

"  Because,  you  see,  he  doesn't  think  me  capable  of 
settling  this  thing;  and  so  I'm  just  going  to  gallop 

374 


THE   ROLL   CALL 


over   and   have   a  little  friendly  chat   with   Mrs.   As- 
cott " 

"  Friendly  ?  "  very  gravely. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  alarmed;  "  why  not?  " 

"  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Ascott  will  receive  you  ?  " 

"  Well — now — Louis  said  something  of  that  sort. 
And  then  he  added  that  it  didn't  matter — but  he  didn't 
explain  what  I  was  to  do  when  she  refused  to  see  me. 
.  .  .  Ah — could — would  you  mind  telling  me  what  to 
do  in  that  case,  Mrs.  Malcourt?" 

"  What  is  there  to  do,  Mr.  Portlaw,  if  a  woman  re 
fuses  to  receive  you?  " 

"  Why — 7  don't  know,"  he  admitted  vacantly. 
"  What  would  you  do?  " 

Young  Mrs.  Malcourt,  frankly  amused,  shook  her 
head: 

"  If  Mrs.  Ascott  won't  see  you,  she  won't  \  You 
don't  intend  to  carry  Pride's  Fall  by  assault,  do  you?  " 

"  But  Louis  said " 

"  Mr.  Malcourt  knows  quite  well  that  Mrs.  Ascott 
won't  see  you." 

"W-why?" 

"  Ask  yourself.  Besides,  her  lawyers  have  forbidden 
her." 

But  Portlaw's  simple  faith  in  Malcourt  never  wa 
vered ;  he  stood  his  ground  and  quoted  him  naively, 
adding :  "  You  see  Louis  must  have  meant  something. 
Couldn't  you  tell  me  what  he  meant?  I'll  promise  to 
do  it." 

"  I  suppose,"  she  answered,  laughing,  "  that  he 
meant  me  to  write  a  note  to  Alida  Ascott,  making  a 
personal  appeal  for  your  reception.  He  spoke  of  it; 
but,  Mr.  Portlaw,  I  am  scarcely  on  such  a  footing  with 
her." 

25  375 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Portlaw  was  so  innocently  delighted  with  the  idea 
which  bore  Malcourt's  stamp  of  authority,  that  young 
Mrs.  Malcourt  found  it  difficult  to  refuse;  and  a  few 
moments  later,  armed  with  a  friendly  but  cautious  note, 
he  climbed  laboriously  aboard  a  huge  chestnut  hack, 
sat  there  doubtfully  while  a  groom  made  all  fast  and 
tight  for  heavy  weather,  then,  with  a  groan,  set  spurs 
to  his  mount,  and  went  pounding  away  through  the 
forest,  upon  diplomacy  intent. 

Hamil,  walking  about  the  lawns  in  the  sunshine,  saw 
him  come  careering  past,  making  heavy  weather  of  it, 
and  smiled  in  salute ;  Shiela  on  a  rustic  ladder,  pruning- 
knife  in  hand,  gazed  over  her  garden  wall  until  the 
woods  swallowed  rotund  rider  and  steed.  As  she  turned 
to  descend,  her  glance  fell  upon  Hamil  who  was  cross 
ing  the  lawn  directly  below.  For  a  moment  they  looked 
at  each  other  without  sign  of  recognition ;  then  scarcely 
aware  of  what  she  did  she  made  him  a  carelessly  gay 
salute  with  her  pruning-knife,  clinging  to  the  ladder 
with  the  other  hand  in  sheer  fear  of  falling,  so  suddenly 
unsteady  her  limbs  and  body. 

He  went  directly  toward  her;  and  she,  her  knees 
scarcely  supporting  her,  mounted  the  last  rung  of  the 
ladder  and  seated  herself  sidewise  on  the  top  of  the 
wall,  looking  down  at  him,  leaning  on  one  arm. 

"  It  is  nice  to  see  you  out,"  she  said,  as  he  came  to 
the  foot  of  the  sunny  wall.  .  .  .  Do  you  really  feel  as 
thin  as  you  look?  ...  I  had  a  letter  from  your  aunt 
to-day  asking  an  outsider's  opinion  of  your  condition, 
and  now  I'll  be  able  to  give  it.  ...  You  do  look  pathet 
ically  thin — but  I  shan't  tell  her  that.  ...  If  you  are 
tired  standing  up  you  may  come  into  my  garden  where 
there  are  some  very  agreeable  benches.  ...  I  would 
like  to  have  you  come  if  you  care  to." 

* 


THE   ROLL   CALL 


She  herself  scarcely  knew  what  she  was  saying ;  smile, 
Yoice,  animation  were  forced;  the  havoc  of  his  illness 
stared  at  her  from  his  sharp  cheek-bones,  thin,  blood 
less  hands,  eyes  still  slow  in  turning,  dull,  heavy-lidded. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  come  to  call,"  he 
said  listlessly. 

She  flushed. 

"  You  did  come,  once  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  did  not  come  again  while  I  was  conscious,  did 
jou?" 

"  No." 

He  passed  his  thin  hand  across  eyes  and  forehead. 

She  folded  her  arms  under  her  breast  and  hung  far 
over  the  shadow-dappled  wall  half-screened  in  young 
vine-leaves.  Over  her  pink  sun-bonnet  and  shoulders 
the  hot  spring  sunshine  fell;  her  face  was  in  shadow; 
his,  under  the  full  glare  of  the  unclouded  sky,  every 
ravage  starkly  revealed.  And  she  could  not  turn  her 
fascinated  gaze  or  crush  out  the  swelling  tenderness 
that  closed  her  throat  to  speech  and  set  her  eyes  glim 
mering. 

The  lids  closed,  slowly;  she  leaned  there  without  a 
word,  living  through  in  the  space  of  a  dozen  pulse-beats, 
the  agony  and  sweetness  of  the  past;  then  laid  her 
flushed  cheek  on  her  arms  and  opened  her  eyes,  looking 
at  him  in  silence. 

But  he  dared  not  sustain  her  gaze  and  took  refuge 
from  it  in  a  forced  gaiety,  comparing  his  reappearance 
to  the  return  of  Ulysses,  where  Dame  Art,  that  respect 
able  old  Haus-Frau,  awaited  him  in  a  rocking-chair, 
chastely  preoccupied  with  her  tatting,  while  rival  archi 
tects  squatted  anxiously  around  her,  urging  their  claims 
to  a  dead  man's  shoes. 

377 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


She  strove  to  smile  at  him  and  to  speak  coolly : 
"  Will  you  come  in  ?  I  have  finished  the  vines  and  pres 
ently  I'm  going  to  dig.  Wait  a  moment  " — looking 
behind  her  and  searching  with  one  tentative  foot  for  the 
ladder — "  I  will  have  to  let  you  in " 

A  moment  later  she  met  him  at  the  grille  and  flung 
it  wide,  holding  out  her  hand  in  welcome  with  a  care 
less  frankness  not  quite  natural — nor  was  the  nervously 
vigorous  handshake,  nor  the  laughter,  light  as  a  breeze, 
leaving  her  breathing  fast  and  unevenly  with  the  hue 
of  excitement  deepening  on  lip  and  cheek. 

So,  the  handshaking  safely  over,  and  chatting  to 
gether  in  a  tone  louder  and  more  animated  than  usual, 
they  walked  down  the  moist  gravel  path  together — the 
extreme  width  of  the  path  apart. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  considering  the  question,  with 
small  head  tipped  sideways,  "  that  you  had  better  sit 
on  this  bench  because  the  paint  is  dry  and  besides  I 
can  talk  to  you  here  and  dig  up  these  seedling  lark 
spurs  at  the  same  time." 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  do  some  weeding?  " 

"  With  pleasure  when  you  are  a  little  stronger " 

"  I'm  all  right  now " 

He  stood  looking  seriously  at  the  bare  flower-bed 
along  the  wall  where  amber  shoots  of  peonies  were 
feathering  out  into  palmate  grace,  and  older  larkspurs 
had  pushed  up  into  fringed  mounds  of  green  foliage. 

She  had  knelt  down  on  the  bed's  edge,  trowel  in 
hand,  pink  sun-bonnet  fallen  back  neglected;  and  with 
blade  and  gloved  fingers  she  began  transferring  the 
irresponsible  larkspur  seedlings  to  the  confines  of  their 
proper  spheres,  patting  each  frail  little  plant  into  place 
caressingly. 

And  he  was  thinking  of  her  as  he  had  last  seen  her 
378 


THE   ROLL    CALL 


— on  her  knees  at  the  edge  of  another  bed,  her  hair 
fallen  unheeded  as  her  sun-bonnet  hung  now,  and  the 
small  hands  clasping,  twisting,  very  busy  with  their 
agony — as  busy  as  her  gloved  fingers  were  now,  rest 
lessly  in  motion  among  the  thickets  of  living  green. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  not  looking  back  over  her 
shoulder,  "  it  must  be  heavenly  to  be  out  of  doors  again." 

"  It  is  rather  pleasant,"  he  assented. 

"  Did  you — they  said  you  had  dreadful  visions.  Did 
you?" 

He  laughed.  "  Some  of  them  were  absurd,  Shiela ; 
the  most  abominably  grotesque  creatures  came  swarming 
and  crowding  around  the  bed — faces  without  bodies — 
creatures  that  grew  while  I  looked  at  them,  swelling  to 
gigantic  proportions —  Oh,  it  was  a  merry  carni 
val " 

Neither  spoke.  Her  back  was  toward  him  as  she 
knelt  there  very  much  occupied  with  her  straying  seed 
lings  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  wall. 

Jonquils  in  heavy  golden  patches  stretched  away 
into  sun-flecked  perspective  broken  by  the  cool  silver- 
green  of  iris  thickets  and  the  white  star-clusters  of 
narcissus  nodding  under  sprays  of  bleeding-heart. 

The  air  was  sweet  with  the  scent  of  late  apple-bloom 
and  lilac — and  Hamil,  brooding  there  on  his  bench  in 
the  sun,  clasped  his  thin  hands  over  his  walking-stick 
and  bent  his  head  to  the  fragrant  memories  of  Calypso's 
own  perfume — the  lilac-odour  of  China-berry  in  bloom, 
under  the  Southern  stars. 

He  drew  his  breath  sharply,  raising  his  head — be 
cause  this  sort  of  thing  would  not  do  to  begin  life  with 
again. 

"  How  is  Louis  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  pleasantly  delib 
erate  voice. 

379 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


The  thing  had  to  be  said  sooner  or  later.  They 
both  knew  that.  It  was  over  now,  with  no  sign  of  effort, 
nothing  in  his  voice  or  manner  to  betray  him.  Fortu 
nately  for  him  her  face  was  turned  away — fortunately 
for  her,  too. 

There  was  a  few  moments'  silence ;  the  trowel,  driven 
abruptly  into  the  earth  to  the  hilt,  served  as  a  prop  for 
her  clinched  hand. 

"  I  think — Louis — is  very  well,"  she  said. 

"  He  is  remaining  permanently  with  Mr.  Portlaw?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  agreeable  for  you — both." 

"  It  is  a  very  beautiful  country."  She  rose  to  her 
slender,  graceful  height  and  surveyed  her  work :  "  A 
pretty  country,  a  pretty  house  and  garden,"  she  said 
steadily.  "  After  all,  you  know,  that  is  the  main  tiling 
in  this  world." 

"What?" 

"Why,  an  agreeable  environment;  isn't  it?" 

She  turned  smilingly,  walked  to  the  bench  and  seated 
herself. 

"  Your  environment  promises  to  be  a  little  lonely  at 
times,"  he  ventured. 

"  Oh,  yes.  But  I  rather  like  it,  when  it's  not  over- 
populated.  There  will  be  a  great  deal  for  me  to  do 
in  my  garden — teaching  young  plants  self-control." 

"  Gardens  freeze  up,  Shiela." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true." 

"  But  you'll  have  good  shooting " 

"  I  will  never  again  draw  trigger  on  any  living 
thing!" 

"  What?    The  girl  who " 

**  No  girl,  now — a  woman  who  can  never  again 
bring  herself  to  inflict  death." 

380 


THE   ROLL    CALL 


"Why?" 

"  I  know  better  now." 

"You  rather  astonish  me?"  he  said,  pretending 
amusement. 

She  sat  very  still,  thoughtful  eyes  roaming,  then 
rested  her  chin  on  her  hand,  dropping  one  knee  over 
the  other  to  support  her  elbow.  And  he  saw  the  sen 
sitive  mouth  droop  a  little,  and  the  white  lids  drooping 
too  until  the  lashes  rested  on  the  bloom  of  the  curved 
cheek.  So  he  had  seen  her,  often,  silent,  absent-minded, 
thoughts  astray  amid  some  blessed  day-dream  in  that 
golden  fable  they  had  lived — and  died  in. 

She  said,  as  though  to  herself :  "  How  can  a  woman 
slay?  ...  I  think  those  who  have  ever  been  victims  of 
pain  never  desire  to  inflict  it  again  on  any  living  thing." 

She  looked  up  humbly,  searching  his  face. 

"  You  know  it  has  become  such  a  dreadful  thing  to 
me — the  responsibility  for  pain  and  death.  ...  It  is 
horrible  for  humanity  to  usurp  such  a  power — to  dare 
interfere  with  life — to  mar  it,  end  it!  ...  Children  do 
not  understand.  I  was  nothing  more  a  few  months 
ago.  To  my  intelligence  the  shallow  arguments  of  those 
takers  of  life  called  sportsmen  was  sufficient.  I  sup 
posed  that  because  almost  all  the  little  children  of  the 
wild  were  doomed  to  die  by  violence,  sooner  or  later, 
that  the  quicker  death  I  offered  was  pardonable  on  the 
score  of  mercy."  .  .  .  She  shook  her  head.  "  Why 
death  and  pain  exist,  I  do  not  know;  He  who  deals 
them  must  know  why." 

He  said,  surprised  at  her  seriousness :  "  Right  or 
wrong,  a  matter  of  taste  cannot  be  argued " 

"  A  matter  of  taste !  Every  fibre  of  me  rebels  at 
the  thought  of  death — of  inflicting  it  on  anything.  God 
knows  how  I  could  have  done  it  when  I  had  so  much 

881 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


of  happiness  myself ! "  She  swung  around  toward 
him: 

"  Sooner  or  later  what  remains  to  say  between  us 
must  be  said,  Garry.  I  think  the  time  is  now — here  in 
my  garden — in  the  clear  daylight  of  the  young  summer. 
.  .  .  You  have  that  last  letter  of  my  girlhood?  " 

"  I  burned  it." 

"  I  have  every  letter  you  ever  wrote  me.  They  are 
in  my  desk  upstairs.  The  desk  is  not  locked." 

"  Had  you  not  better  destroy  them?  " 

"Why?" 

"  As  you  wdsh,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  ground. 

"  One  keeps  the  letters  of  the  dead,"  she  said ; 
"  your  youth  and  mine " — she  made  a  little  gesture 
downward  as  though  smoothing  a  grave — daintily. 

They  were  very  unwise,  sitting  there  in  the  sunshine 
side  by  side,  tremendously  impressed  with  the  catas 
trophe  of  life  and  with  each  other — still  young  enough 
to  be  in  earnest,  to  take  life  and  each  other  with  that 
awesome  finality  which  is  the  dread  privilege  of 
youth. 

She  spoke  with  conviction  of  the  mockery  of  life,  of 
wisdom  and  its  sadness ;  he  looked  upon  the  world  in  all 
the  serious  disillusion  of  youth,  and  saw  it  strewn  with 
the  fragments  of  their  wrecked  happiness. 

They  were  very  emotional,  very  unhappy,  very,  very 
much  in  love;  but  the  truly  pathetic  part  of  it  all  lay 
in  her  innocent  conviction  that  a  marriage  witnessed  by 
the  world  was  a  sanctuary  within  the  circle  of  which 
neither  she  nor  he  had  any  reason  to  fear  each  other 
or  themselves. 

The  thing  was  done ;  hope  slain.  They,  the  mourn 
ers,  might  now  meet  in  safety  to  talk  together  over  the 
dead — suffer  together  among  the  graves  of  common 

382 


THE   ROLL    CALL 


memories,  sadly  tracing,  reverently  marking  with  epi 
taphs  appropriate  the  tombs  which  held  the  dead  days 
of  their  youth. 

Youth  believes ;  Age  is  the  sceptic.  So  they  did  not 
know  that,  as  nature  abhors  a  vacuum,  youth  cannot 
long  tolerate  the  vacuity  of  grief.  Rose  vines,  cut  to 
the  roots,  climb  the  higher.  No  checking  ever  killed  a 
passion.  Just  now  her  inexperience  was  driving  her  into 
platitudes. 

"  Dear  Garry,"  she  said  gently,  "  it  is  such  happi 
ness  to  talk  to  you  like  this;  to  know  that  you  under 
stand." 

There  is  a  regulation  forbidding  prisoners  to  con 
verse  upon  the  subject  of  their  misdemeanours,  but 
neither  he  nor  she  seemed  to  be  aware  of  it. 

Moreover,  she  was  truly  convinced  that  no  mm  in 
cloister  was  as  hopelessly  certain  of  safety  from  world 
and  flesh  and  devil  as  was  her  heart  and  its  meditations, 
under  the  aegis  of  admitted  wedlock. 

She  looked  down  at  the  ring  she  wore,  and  a  faint 
shiver  passed  over  her. 

"  You  are  going  to  Mrs.  Ascott?  " 

"  Yes,  to  make  her  a  Trianon  and  a  smirking  little 
park.  I  can't  quarrel  with  my  bread  and  butter,  but 
I  wish  people  would  let  these  woods  alone." 

She  sat  very  still  and  thoughtful,  hands  clasped  on 
her  knee. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  Mrs.  Ascott,"  she  repeated. 
And,  still  thoughtful :  "  I  am  so  fond  of  Alida  Ascott. 
.  .  .  She  is  very  pretty,  isn't  she?  " 

"  Very,"  he  said  absently. 

"  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " — warmly. 

"  I  never  met  her  but  once." 

She  was  considering  him,  the  knuckle  of  one  fore- 
383 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


finger  resting  against  her  chin  in  an  almost  childish  at 
titude  of  thoughtful  perplexity. 

"  How  long  are  you  to  remain  there,  Garry  ?  " 

"Where?" — coming  out  of  abstraction. 

"There— at  Mrs.  Ascott's?" 

66  Oh,  I  don't  know— a  month,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  longer?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,  Shiela." 

Young  Mrs.  Malcourt  fell  silent,  eyes  on  the  ground, 
one  knee  loosely  crossed  over  the  other,  and  her  small 
foot  swinging  gently  above  its  blue  shadow  on  the 
gravel. 

Some  details  in  the  eternal  scheme  of  things  were 
troubling  her  already;  for  one,  the  liberty  of  this  man 
to  come  and  go  at  will;  and  the  dawning  perception  of 
her  own  chaining. 

It  was  curious,  too,  to  be  sitting  here  so  idly  be 
side  him,  and  realise  that  she  had  belonged  to  him 
so  absolutely — remembering  the  thousand  thrilling  in 
timacies  that  bound  them  immortally  together — and 
now  to  be  actually  so  isolated,  so  beyond  his  reach,  so 
alone,  so  miserably  certain  of  her  soul's  safety!  .  .  . 
And  now,  for  the  first  time,  she  missed  the  pleasures  of 
fear — the  exquisite  trepidation  that  lay  in  unsafety — 
the  blessed  thrill  of  peril  warning  her  to  avoid  his  eyes, 
his  touch,  his — lips. 

She  glanced  uneasily  at  him,  a  slow  side  gaze;  and 
met  his  eyes. 

Her  heart  had  begun  beating  faster;  a  glow  grew 
in  her  veins ;  she  closed  her  eyes,  sitting  there  surprised 
— not  yet  frightened. 

Time  throbbed  on ;  rigid,  motionless,  she  endured  the 
pulsing  silence  while  the  blood  quickened  till  body  and 
limbs  seemed  burning;  and  suddenly,  from  heart  to 

384 


THE   BOLL   CALL 


throat  the  tension  tightened  as  though  a  cry,  echoing 
within  her,  was  being  strangled. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better — go — "  she  managed  to 
say. 

"Why?" 

She  looked  down  at  her  restless  fingers  interlacing, 
too  confused  to  be  actually  afraid  of  herself  or  him. 

What  was  there  to  fear?  What  occult  uneasiness 
was  haunting  them?  Where  might  lie  any  peril,  now? 
How  could  the  battle  begin  again  when  all  was  quiet 
along  the  firing  line — quiet  with  the  quiet  of  death? 
Do  dead  memories  surge  up  into  furies?  Can  dead 
hopes  burn  again?  Is  there  any  resurrection  for  the 
insurgent  passions  of  the  past  laid  for  ever  under  the 
ban  of  wedlock?  The  fear  within  her  turned  to  impa 
tience — to  a  proud  incredulity. 

And  now  she  felt  the  calm  reaction  as  though,  unbid 
den,  an  ugly  dream,  passing,  had  shadowed  her  un- 
awakened  senses  for  a  moment,  and  passed  away. 

As  long  as  they  lived  there  was  nothing  to  be  done. 
Endurance  could  cease  only  with  death.  What  was 
there  to  fear?  She  asked  herself,  waiting  half  con 
temptuously  for  an  answer.  But  her  unknown  self  had 
now  subsided  into  the  obscurity  from  whence  it  rose. 
The  Phantom  of  the  Future  was  laid. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

A    CAPITULATION 

As  Hamil  left  the  garden  Malcourt  sauntered  into 
view,  halted,  then  came  forward. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said  pleasantly. 

"  Thank  you." 

Neither  offered  to  shake  hands ;  Malcourt,  lightly 
formal,  spoke  of  Hamil's  illness  in  a  few  words,  using 
that  excellent  taste  which  was  at  his  command  when  he 
chose  to  employ  it.  He  expressed  his  pleasure  in  Ham 
il's  recovery,  and  said  that  he  was  ready  at  any  time 
to  take  up  the  unfinished  details  of  Portlaw's  business, 
agreeing  with  Hamil  that  there  remained  very  little  to 
talk  over. 

"  The  main  thing,  of  course,  is  to  squelch  William's 
last  hopes  of  any  Rhine  castles,"  continued  Malcourt, 
laughing.  "  If  you  feel  like  it  to-day  I'll  bring  over 
the  plans  as  you  sketched  them." 

"  In  a  day  or  two,"  nodded  Hamil. 

"  Or  perhaps  you  will  lunch  with  m — with  us,  and 
you  and  I  can  go  over  the  things  comfortably." 

But  he  saw  by  the  scarcely  perceptible  change  in 
Hamil's  face  that  there  were  to  be  no  such  relations  be 
tween  them,  informal  or  otherwise;  and  he  went  on 
quietly,  closing  his  own  suggestion: 

"  Or,  if  you  like,  we'll  get  Portlaw  some  morning 
after  his  breakfast,  and  end  the  whole  matter  by  laying 
down  the  law  to  him." 

386 


A    CAPITULATION 


"  That  would  be  perfectly  agreeable  to  me,"  said 
Hamil.  He  spoke  as  though  fatigued,  and  he  looked 
it  as  he  moved  toward  his  house,  using  his  walking-stick. 
Malcourt  accompanied  him  to  the  road. 

"  Hamil,"  he  said  coolly,  "  may  I  suggest  some 
thing? " 

The  other  turned  an  expressionless  face  toward 
him :  "  What  do  you  wish  to  suggest  ?  " 

"  That,  some  day  when  you  feel  physically  better, 
I'd  like  to  go  over  one  or  two  matters  with  you — pri 
vately " 

"What  matters?" 

"  They  concern  you  and  myself." 

"  I  know  of  no  private  matters  which  concern  you 
and  myself — or  are  ever  likely  to." 

Malcourt's  face  darkened.  "  I  think  I  warned  you 
once  that  one  day  you  would  misunderstand  my  friend 
ship  for  you." 

Hamil  straightened  up,  looking  him  coldly  in  the 
eye. 

"  Malcourt,"  he  said,  "  there  is  no  reason  for  the 
slightest  pretence  between  us.  I  don't  like  you ;  I  don't 
dislike  you;  I  simply  don't  take  you  into  consideration 
at  all.  The  accident  of  your  intrusion  into  a  woman's 
life  is  not  going  to  make  any  more  difference  to  me 
than  it  has  already  made,  nor  can  it  affect  my 
complete  liberty  and  freedom  to  do  and  say  what  I 
choose." 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  understand  you,  Hamil." 

"  Well,  you  can  certainly  understand  this :  that  my 
regard  for — Mrs.  Malcourt — does  not  extend  to  you ; 
that  it  is  neither  modified  nor  hampered  by  the  fact 
that  you  happen  to  exist,  or  that  she  now  bears  your 
name." 

387 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Malcourt's  face  had  lost  its  colour.  He  began 
slowly : 

"  There  is  no  reason,  I  think — 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  think !  "  said  Hamil.  "  It 
is  not  of  any  consequence  to  me,  nor  will  it  govern  me 
in  any  manner."  He  made  a  contemptuous  gesture 
toward  the  garden.  "  Those  flower-beds  and  gravel 
walks  in  there — I  don't  know  whether  they  belong  to  you 
or  to  Mrs.  Malcourt  or  to  Portlaw ;  and  I  don't  care. 
The  accidental  ownership  of  property  will  not  prevent 
my  entering  it;  but  its  ownership  by  you  would 
prevent  my  accepting  your  personal  invitation  to  use 
it  or  even  enter  it.  And  now,  perhaps,  you  under 
stand." 

Malcourt,  very  white,  nodded: 

"  It  is  so  useless,"  he  said — "  all  this  bitterness. 
You  don't  know  what  you're  saying.  .  .  .  But  I  sup 
pose  you  can't  help  it.  ...  It  always  has  been  that 
way ;  things  go  to  smash  if  I  try  to  do  anything.  .  .  . 
Well,  Hamil,  we'll  go  on  in  your  own  fashion,  if  we 
must — for  a  while.  But  " — and  he  laughed  mirthlessly 
— "  if  it  ends  in  a  little  shooting — you  mustn't  blame 
me!" 

Hamil  surveyed  him  in  cold  displeasure. 

"  I  always  expected  you'd  find  your  level,"  he  ob 
served. 

"  Yes,  I'll  find  it,"  mused  Malcourt,  "  as  soon  as  I 
know  what  it  ought  to  be.  Under  pressure  it  is  dif 
ficult  to  ascertain  such  things;  one's  true  level  may 
be  higher  or  lower.  My  father  and  I  have  often  dis 
cussed  this  matter — and  the  ethics  of  straight  shoot- 
ing." 

Hamil's  eyes  narrowed. 

"  If  you  mean  that  as  a  threat " — he  began  con- 
388 


A    CAPITULATION 


temptuously ;  but  Malcourt,  who  had  suddenly  assumed 
that  curious  listening  attitude,  raised  his  hand  impa 
tiently,  as  though  silencing  interruption. 

And  long  after  Hamil  had  turned  on  his  heel  and 
gone,  he  stood  there,  graceful  head  lowered  a  little  and 
partly  turned  as  though  poetically  appreciative  of  the 
soft  twittering  music  which  the  bluebirds  were  making 
among  the  falling  apple-bloom. 

Then,  slowly,  not  noticing  Hamil's  departure,  he 
retraced  his  steps  through  the  garden,  head  slightly 
inclined,  as  though  to  catch  the  murmur  of  some  in 
visible  companion  accompanying  him.  Once  or  twice 
he  nodded,  a  strange  smile  creeping  over  his  face;  once 
his  lips  moved  as  though  asking  a  question ;  no  sound 
came  from  them,  but  apparently  he  had  his  answer,  for 
he  nodded  assent,  halted,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  looked 
upward. 

"  We  can  try  that,"  he  said  aloud  in  his  naturally 
pleasant  voice ;  and,  entering  the  house,  went  upstairs 
to  his  wife's  apartments. 

Shiela's  maid  answered  his  knock;  a  moment  later, 
Shiela  herself,  gowned  for  the  afternoon,  came  to  the 
door,  and  her  maid  retired. 

"  Do  you  mind  my  stepping  in  a  moment? "  he 
asked. 

She  glanced  back  into  her  own  bedroom,  closed  the 
door,  and  led  the  way  to  the  small  living-room  at  the 
other  end  of  the  house. 

"  Where's  that  maid  of  yours  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Sewing  in  my  dressing-room.  Shall  I  send  her 
downstairs  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  it's  better." 

So  Shiela  went  away  and  returned  shortly  saying 
that  her  maid  had  gone;  and  then,  with  a  questioning 

389 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


gesture  to  her  husband,  she  seated  herself  by  the  open 
window  and  looked  out  into  the  sunshine,  waiting  for 
him  to  speak. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  what  saved 
Cardross,  Carrick  &  Co.  from  going  to  the  wall?  " 

"What?"  The  quick,  crisp  question  sounded  like 
the  crack  of  a  tiny  whip. 

He  looked  at  her,  languidly  amused. 

"  You  knew  there  was  a  panic?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  You  knew  that  your  father  and  Mr.  Carrick  were 
worried?  " 

"  Yes." 

66  You  didn't  realise  they  were  in  bad  shape?  " 

"  Not— very.     Were  they?  " 

"  That  they  needed  money,  and  that  they  couldn't 
go  out  into  the  market  and  borrow  it  because  nobody 
would  lend  any  money  to  anybody  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  such  details." 

"  Details  ?  Ah  —  yes,  quite  so.  ...  Then  you 
were  not  aware  that  a  run  was  threatened  on  the 
Shoshone  Securities  Company  and  certain  affiliated 
banks?" 

"  Yes — but  I  did  not  suppose  it  meant  anything 
alarming." 

"  And  you  didn't  understand  that  your  father  and 
brother-in-law  could  not  convert  their  securities  into  the 
ready  cash  they  needed  to  meet  their  obligations — did 
you?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  details,  Louis.   .  .  .  No." 

"  Or  that  they  were  desperate  ?  " 

Her  face  altered  pitifully. 

"  On  the  edge  of  bankruptcy  ?  "  he  went  on. 

"  What!  " 

390 


A    CAPITULATION 


"  Then,"  he  said  deliberately,  "  you  don't  know  what 
helped  them — what  tided  them  over  those  two  days — 
what  pulled  them  through  by  the  slimmest  margin  that 
ever  saved  the  credit  of  anybody." 

"  Not — my  money?  " 

"  Yes  ;  your  money." 

"Is  it  true,  Louis?" 

«  Absolutely." 

She  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand  and  sat  gaz 
ing  out  of  the  open  window.  There  were  tears 
very  near  her  eyes,  but  the  lids  closed  and  not  one 
fell  or  even  wet  the  thick  lashes  resting  on  her 
cheeks. 

"  I  supposed  it  would  please  you  to  know  what  you 
have  done." 

The  face  she  turned  toward  him  was  wonderful  in 
its  radiance. 

She  said :  "  I  have  never  been  as  happy  in  all  my  life, 
I  think.  Thank  you  for  telling  me.  I  needed  just — 
that." 

He  studied  her  for  a  moment,  nimble  wits  at  work. 
Then: 

"  Has  your  father — and  the  others — in  their  letters, 
said  anything  about  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father  has.  He  did  not  say  matters  had  been 
desperate." 

"  I  suppose  he  does  not  dare  commit  such  a  thing 
to  paper — yet.  .  .  .  You  do  not  burn  your  letters," 
he  added  blandly. 

"  I  have  no  reason  to." 

"  It  might  save  servants'  gossip." 

"  What  gossip  ?  " — in  cold  surprise. 

"  There's  a  desk  full  of  Hamil's  letters  upstairs, 
judging  from  the  writing  on  the  envelopes."  He  added 
26  391 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


with  a  smile :  "  Although  I  don't  pry,  some  servants  do. 
And  if  there  is  anything  in  those  letters  you  do  not 
care  to  have  discussed  below  stairs,  you  ought  either 
to  lock  them  up  or  destroy  them." 

Her  face  was  burning  hot ;  but  she  met  his  gaze  with 
equanimity,  slowly  nodding  serene  assent  to  his  sug 
gestion. 

"  Shiela,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "  it  looks  to  me  as 
though  what  you  have  done  for  your  family  in  that 
hour  of  need  rather  balances  all  accounts  between  you 
and  them." 

"What?" 

"  I  say  that  you  are  square  with  them  for  what  they 
have  done  in  the  past  for  you." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean, 
Louis." 

He  said  patiently :  "  You  had  nothing  to  give  but 
your  fortune,  and  you  gave  it." 

"  Yes." 

"  Which  settles  your  obligations  toward  them — puts 
them  so  deeply  for  ever  in  your  debt  that — "  He  hesi 
tated,  considering  the  chances,  then,  seriously  per 
suasive  : 

"  They  are  now  in  your  debt,  Shiela.  They  have 
sufficient  proof  of  your  unselfish  affection  for  them  to 
stand  a  temporary  little  shock.  Why  don't  you  admin-* 
ister  it?" 

"  What  shock  ?  " — in  an  altered  voice. 

"  Your  divorce." 

"  I  thought  you  were  meaning  that." 

"  I  do  mean  it.  You  ought  to  have  your  freedom ; 
you  are  ruining  your  own  life  and  HamiPs,  and — 
and " 

"Yours?" 

39% 


A    CAPITULATION 


"  Let  that  go,"  he  said  almost  savagely ;  "  I  can 
always  get  along.  But  I  want  you  to  have  your  free 
dom  to  marry  that  damned  fool,  Hamil." 

The  quick  blood  stung  her  face  under  his  sudden 
blunt  brutality. 

"  You  think  that  because  I  returned  a  little  money 
to  my  family,  it  entitles  me  to  publicly  disgrace 
them?" 

Malcourt's  patience  was  fast  going. 

"  Oh,  for  Heaven's  sake,  Shiela,  shed  your  swad 
dling  clothes  and  act  like  something  adult.  Is  there 
any  reason  why  two  people  situated  as  we  are  cannot 
discuss  sensibly  some  method  of  mitigating  our  misfor 
tune?  I'll  do  anything  you  say  in  the  matter.  Divorce 
is  a  good  thing  sometimes.  This  is  one  of  the  times, 
and  I'll  give  you  every  reason  for  a  successful  suit 
against  me " 

She  rose,  cheeks  aflame,  and  in  her  eyes  scorn  un 
governable. 

He  rose  too,  exasperated. 

"  You  won't  consider  it  ?  "  he  asked  harshly. 

"  No." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I'm  not  coward  enough  to  ask  others  to 
bear  the  consequences  of  my  own  folly  and  yours !  " 

"  You  little  fool,"  he  said,  "  do  you  think  your  fam 
ily  would  let  you  endure  me  for  one  second  if  they  knew 
how  you  felt?  Or  what  I  am  likely  to  do  at  any  mo 
ment?  " 

She  stood,  without  replying,  plainly  waiting  for  him 
to  leave  the  room  and  her  apartments.  All  her  colour 
had  fled. 

"  You  know,"  he  said,  with  an  ugly  glimmer  in  his 
eyes,  "  I  need  not  continue  this  appeal  to  your  common 

393 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


sense,  if  you  haven't  got  any;  I  can  force  you  to  a 
choice." 

"  What  choice?  " — in  leisurely  contempt. 

He  hesitated ;  then,  insolently :  "  Your  choice  be 
tween — honest  wifehood  and  honest  divorce." 

For  a  moment  she  could  not  comprehend:  suddenly 
her  hands  contracted  and  clinched  as  the  crimson  wave 
stained  her  from  throat  to  brow.  But  in  her  eyes  was 
terror  unutterable. 

"  I — I  beg — your  pardon,"  he  stammered.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  frighten  you " 

But  at  his  first  word  she  clapped  both  hands  over 
her  ears,  staring  at  him  in  horror — backing  away  from 
him,  shrinking  flat  against  the  wall. 

"  Confound  it !  I  am  not  threatening  you,"  he  said, 
raising  his  voice ;  but  she  would  not  hear  another  word 
— he  saw  that  now — and,  with  a  shrug,  he  walked  past 
her,  patient  once  more,  outwardly  polite,  inwardly  bit 
terly  amused,  as  he  heard  the  key  snap  in  the  door  be 
hind  him. 

Standing  in  his  own  office  on  the  floor  below,  he 
glanced  vacantly  around  him.  After  a  moment  he  said 
aloud,  as  though  to  somebody  in  the  room :  "  Well,  I 
tried  it.  But  that  is  not  the  way." 

Later,  young  Mrs.  Malcourt,  passing,  saw  him 
seated  at  his  desk,  head  bent  as  though  listening  to 
something  interesting.  But  there  was  nobody  else  in 
the  office. 

When  at  last  he  roused  himself  the  afternoon  sun 
was  shining  level  in  the  west ;  long  rosy  beams  struck 
through  the  woods  turning  the  silver  stems  of  the 
birches  pink. 

On  the  footbridge  spanning  the  meadow  brook  he 
saw  his  wife  and  Hamil  leaning  over  the  hand-rail, 

394 


A    CAPITULATION 


shoulder  almost  touching  shoulder ;  and  he  went  to  the 
window  and  stood  intently  observing  them. 

They  seemed  to  be  conversing  very  earnestly;  once 
she  threw  back  her  pretty  head  and  laughed  unrestrain 
edly,  and  the  clear  sound  of  it  floated  up  to  him  through 
the  late  sunshine ;  and  once  she  shook  her  head  emphatic 
ally,  and  once  he  saw  her  lay  her  hand  on  Hamil's  arm — 
an  impulsive  gesture,  as  though  to  enforce  her  words, 
but  it  was  more  like  a  caress. 

A  tinge  of  malice  altered  Malcourt's  smile  as  he 
watched  them ;  the  stiffening  grin  twitched  at  his 
cheeks. 

"  Now  I  wonder,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "  whether 
it  is  the  right  way  after  all!  ....  I  don't  think  I'll 
threaten  her  again  with — alternatives.  There's  no  tell 
ing  what  a  fool  might  do  in  a  panic."  Then,  as  though 
the  spectacle  bored  him,  he  yawned,  stretched  his  arms 
and  back  gracefully,  turned  and  touched  the  button 
that  summoned  his  servant. 

"  Order  the  horses  and  pack  as  usual,  Simmons,"  he 
said  with  another  yawn.  "  I'm  going  to  New  York. 
Isn't  Mr.  Portlaw  here  yet?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

66  Did  you  say  he  went  away  on  horseback  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  this  morning." 

"  And  you  don't  know  where  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.     Mr.  Portlaw  took  the  South  Road." 

Malcourt  grinned  again,  perfectly  certain,  now,  of 
Portlaw's  destination ;  and  thinking  to  himself  that 
unless  his  fatuous  employer  had  been  landed  in  a  ditch 
somewhere,  en  route,  he  was  by  this  time  returning 
from  Pride's  Fall  with  considerable  respect  for  Mrs. 
Ascott. 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


As  a  matter  of  fact,  Portlaw  had  already  started 
on  his  way  back.  Mrs.  Ascott  was  not  at  Pride's  Hall — 
her  house — when  he  presented  himself  at  the  door.  Her 
servant,  evidently  instructed,  did  not  know  where  Mrs. 
Ascott  and  Miss  Palliser  had  gone  or  when  they  might 
return. 

So  Portlaw  betook  himself  heavily  to  the  village  inn, 
where  he  insulted  his  astonished  stomach  with  a  noon 
day  dinner,  and  found  the  hard  wooden  chairs  exceed 
ingly  unpleasant. 

About  five  o'clock  he  got  into  his  saddle  with  an 
unfeigned  groan,  and  out  of  it  again  at  Mrs.  Ascott's 
door.  They  told  him  there  that  Mrs.  Ascott  was  not 
at  home. 

Whether  this  might  be  the  conventional  manner  of 
informing  him  that  she  declined  to  receive  him,  or 
whether  she  really  was  out,  he  had  no  means  of  knowing ; 
so  he  left  his  cards  for  Mrs.  Ascott  and  Miss  Palliser, 
also  the  note  which  young  Mrs.  Malcourt  had  given 
him ;  clambered  once  more  up  the  side  of  his  horse,  sup 
pressing  his  groans  until  out  of  hearing  and  well  on 
his  way  toward  the  fatal  boundary. 

In  the  late  afternoon,  sky  and  water  had  turned  to 
a  golden  rose  hue;  clouds  of  gnats  danced  madly  over 
meadow  pools,  calm  mirrors  of  the  sunset,  save  when  a 
trout  sprang  quivering,  a  dark,  slim  crescent  against 
the  light,  falling  back  with  a  mellow  splash  that  set 
the  pool  rocking. 

At  gaze  a  deer  looked  at  him  from  sedge,  furry 
ears  forward ;  stamped,  winded  him,  and,  not  frightened 
rery  much,  trotted  into  the  dwarf  willows,  halting  once 
or  twice  to  look  around. 

As  he  advanced,  his  horse  splashing  through  the 
396 


A    CAPITULATION 


flooded  land  fetlock-deep  in  water,  green  herons  flapped 
upward,  protesting  harshly,  circled  overhead  with 
leisurely  wing-beats,  and  settled  on  some  dead  limb,  thin, 
strange  shapes  against  the  deepening  orange  of  the 
western  heavens. 

Portlaw,  sitting  his  saddle  gingerly,  patronized 
nature  askance;  and  he  saw  across  the  flooded  meadow 
where  the  river  sand  had  piled  its  smothering  blanket — 
which  phenomenon  he  was  guiltily  aware  was  due  to  him. 

Everywhere  were  signs  of  the  late  overflow — raw 
new  gravel  channels  for  Painted  Creek;  river  willows 
bent  low  where  the  flood  had  winnowed ;  piles  of  drift 
wood  jammed  here  and  there;  a  single  stone  pier  stem 
ming  mid-stream,  ancient  floor  and  cover  gone.  More 
of  his  work — or  the  consequences  of  it — this  deso 
lation  ;  from  which,  under  his  horse's  feet,  rose  a  hawk, 
flapping,  furious,  a  half-drowned  snake  dangling  from 
the  talon-clutch. 

"  Ugh ! "  muttered  Portlaw,  bringing  his  startled 
horse  under  discipline;  then  forged  forward  across  the 
drowned  lands,  sorry  for  his  work,  sorry  for  his  ob 
stinacy,  sorrier  for  himself;  for  Portlaw,  in  some  mat 
ters  was  illogically  parsimonious ;  and  it  irked  him 
dreadfully  to  realise  how  utterly  indefensible  were  his 
actions  and  how  much  they  promised  to  cost  him. 

"  Unless,"  he  thought  cannily  to  himself,  "  I  can 
fix  it  up  with  her — for  old  friendship's  sake — bah  ! — 
doing  the  regretful  sinner  business 

As  the  horse  thrashed  out  of  the  drowned  lands  up 
into  the  flat  plateau  where  acres  of  alders,  their  tops 
level  as  a  trimmed  hedge,  stretched  away  in  an  even, 
green  sea,  a  distant,  rapping  sound  struck  his  ear, 
sharp,  regular  as  the  tree-tapping  of  a  cock-o'-the- 
woods. 

397 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


Indifferently  convinced  that  the  great,  noisy  wood 
pecker  was  the  cause  of  the  racket,  he  rode  on  toward 
the  hard-wood  ridge  dominating  this  plateau  where  his 
guests,  last  season,  had  shot  woodcock — one  of  the 
charges  in  the  suit  against  him. 

"  The  thing  to  do,"  he  ruminated,  "  is  to  throw  my 
self  gracefully  on  her  mercy.  Women  like  to  have  a 
chance  to  forgive  you ;  Louis  says  so,  and  he  ought  to 
know.  What  a  devilishly  noisy  woodpecker !  " 

And,  looking  up,  he  drew  bridle  sharply. 

For  there,  on  the  wood's  edge,  stood  a  familiar  gray 
mare,  and  in  the  saddle,  astride,  sat  Alida  Ascott,  busily 
hammering  tacks  into  a  trespass  notice  printed  on  white 
muslin,  and  attached  to  the  trunk  of  a  big  maple-tree. 

So  absorbed  was  she  in  her  hammering  that  at  first 
she  neither  heard  nor  saw  Portlaw  when  he  finally  ven 
tured  to  advance ;  and  when  she  did  she  dropped  the 
tack  hammer  in  her  astonishment. 

He  dismounted,  with  pain,  to  pick  it  up,  presented 
it,  face  wreathed  in  a  series  of  appealing  smiles,  then, 
managing  to  scale  the  side  of  his  horse  again,  settled 
himself  as  comfortably  as  possible  for  the  impending 
conflict. 

But  Alida  Ascott,  in  her  boyish  riding  breeches  and 
deep-skirted  coat,  merely  nodded  her  thanks,  took  hold 
of  the  hammer  firmly,  and  drove  in  more  tacks,  paying 
no  further  attention  to  William  Van  Beuren  Portlaw 
and  his  heart-rending  smiles. 

It  was  very  embarrassing ;  he  sidled  his  horse  around 
so  that  he  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  profile.  The 
view  he  obtained  was  not  encouraging. 

"  Alida,"  he  ventured  plaintively. 

"  Mr.  Portlaw !  " — so  suddenly  swinging  on  him 
that  he  lost  all  countenance  and  blurted  out: 

398 


A    CAPITULATION 


"  I — I  only  want  to  make  amends  and  be  friends." 

"  I  expect  you  to  make  amends,"  she  said  in  a  sig 
nificantly  quiet  voice,  which  chilled  him  with  the  men 
ace  of  damages  unlimited.  And  even  in  his  perturbation 
he  saw  at  once  that  it  would  never  do  to  have  a  back 
woods  jury  look  upon  the  fascinating  countenance  of 
this  young  plaintiff. 

"  Alida,"  he  said  sorrowfully,  "  I  am  beginning  to 
see  things  in  a  clearer  light." 

"  I  think  that  light  will  grow  very  much  clearer, 
Mr.  Portlaw." 

He  repressed  a  shudder,  and  tried  to  look  reproach 
ful,  but  she  seemed  to  be  very  hard-hearted,  for  she 
turned  once  more  to  her  hammering. 

"  Alida ! " 

"  What?  " — continuing  to  drive  tacks. 

"  After  all  these  }rears  of  friendship  it — it  is  per 
fectly  painful  for  me  to  contemplate  a  possible  law 
suit » 

"  It  will  be  more  painful  to  contemplate  an  actual 
one,  Mr.  Portlaw." 

"  Alida,  do  you  really  mean  that  you — my  neigh 
bour  and  friend — are  going  to  press  this  unnatural 
complaint?  " 

"  I  certainly  do." 

Portlaw  shook  his  head  violently,  and  passed  his 
gloved  hand  over  his  eyes  as  though  to  rouse  himself 
from  a  distressing  dream;  all  of  which  expressive  pan 
tomime  was  lost  on  Mrs.  Ascott,  who  was  busy  driving 
tacks. 

"  I  simply  cannot  credit  my  senses,"  he  said  mourn 
fully. 

"  You  ought  to  try ;  it  will  be  still  more  difficult 
later,"  she  observed,  backing  her  horse  so  that  she 

399 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


might  inspect  her   handiwork  from  the  proper   point 
of  view. 

Portlaw  looked  askance  at  the  sign.  It  warned  peo 
ple  not  to  shoot,  fish,  cut  trees,  dam  streams,  or  build 
fires  under  penalty  of  the  law ;  and  was  signed,  "  Alida 
Ascott." 

"  You  didn't  have  any  up  before,  did  you  ?  "  he 
asked  innocently. 

"  By  advice  of  counsel  I  think  I  had  better  not 
reply,  Mr.  Portlaw.  But  I  believe  that  point  will  be 
brought  out  by  my  lawyers — unless  " — with  a  bril 
liant  smile — "  your  own  counsel  sees  fit  to  discuss 
it." 

Portlaw  was  convinced  that  his  hair  was  stirring  un 
der  his  cap.  He  was  horribly  afraid  of  the  law. 

"  See  here,  Alida,"  he  said,  assuming  the  bluff 
rough-diamond  front  which  the  alarm  in  his  eyes 
made  foolish,  "  I  want  to  settle  this  little  difference 
and  be  friends  with  you  again.  I  was  wrong ;  I  admit 
it.  ...  Of  course  I  might  very  easily  defend  such  a 
suit -" 

"  But,  of  course  " — serenely  undeceived — "  as  you 
admit  you  are  in  the  wrong  you  will  scarcely  venture  to 
defend  such  a  suit.  Your  lawyers  ought  to  forbid  you 
to  talk  about  this  case,  particularly  " — with  a  demure 
smile—"  to  the  plaintiff." 

"  Alida,"  he  said,  "  I  am  determined  to  remain  your 
friend.  You  may  do  what  you  will,  say  what  you  wish, 
yes,  even  use  my  own  words  against  me,  but  " — and 
virtue  fairly  exuded  from  every  perspiring  pore — "  I 
will  not  retaliate !  " 

"  I'm  afraid  you  can't,  William,"  she  said  softly. 

"  Won't  you — forgive?  "  he  asked  in  a  melting 
voice;  but  his  eyes  were  round  with  apprehension. 

400 


rA    CAPITULATION 


"  There  are  some  things  that  no  woman  can  over 
look,"  she  said. 

"  I'll  send  my  men  down  to  fix  that  bridge " 

"  Bridges  can  be  mended ;  I  was  not  speaking  of  the 
bridge." 

"  You  mean  those  sheep " 

"  No,  Mr.  Portlaw." 

"  Well,  there's  a  lot — I  mean  that  some  little  sand 
has  been  washed  over  your  meadow " 

"  Good  night,"  she  said,  turning  her  horse's  head. 

"Isn't  it  the  sand,  Alida?"  he  pleaded.  "You 
surely  will  forgive  that  timber-cutting — and  the  shoot 
ing  of  a  few  migratory  birds " 

"  Good  night,"  touching  her  gray  mare  forward  to 
where  he  was  awkwardly  blocking  the  wood-path.  .  .  . 
"  Do  you  mind  moving  a  trifle,  Mr.  Portlaw?  " 

"  About — ah — the — down  there,  you  know,  at  Palm 
Beach,"  he  stammered,  "  at  that  accursed  lawn- 
party " 

"  Yes  ?  "  She  smiled  but  her  eyes  harboured  light 
ning. 

"  It  was  so  hot  in  Florida — you  know  how  infernally 
hot  it  was,  don't  you,  Alida?  "  he  asked  beseechingly. 
"  I  scarcely  dared  leave  the  Beach  Club." 

"Well?" 

"  I — I  thought  I'd  just  m-m-mention  it.  That's 
wrhy  I  didn't  call  on  you — I  was  afraid  of  sun 
stroke " 

"  What !  "  she  exclaimed,  astonished  at  his  stutter 
ing  audacity. 

He  knew  he  was  absurd,  but  it  was  all  he  could  think 
of.  She  gave  him  time  enough  to  realise  the  pitiable 
spectacle  he  was  making  of  himself,  sitting  her  horse 
motionless,  pretty  eyes  bent  on  his — an  almost  faultless 

401 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


though  slight  figure,  smooth  as  a  girl's  yet  faintly  in 
stinct  with  that  charm  of  ripened  adolescence  just  short 
of  maturity. 

And,  slowly,  under  her  clear  gaze,  a  confused  com 
prehension  began  to  stir  in  him — at  first  only  a  sort 
of  chagrin,  then  something  more — a  consciousness  of 
his  own  heaviness  of  intellect  and  grossness  of  figure 
— the  fatness  of  mind  and  body  which  had  developed  so 
rapidly  within  the  last  two  years. 

There  she  sat,  as  slim  and  pretty  and  fresh  as  ever ; 
and  only  two  years  ago  he  had  been  mentally  and 
physically  active  enough  to  find  vigorous  amusement 
in  her  company.  Malcourt's  stinging  words  concern 
ing  his  bodily  unloveliness  and  self-centred  inertia  came 
into  his  mind;  and  a  slow  blush  deepened  the  colour  in 
his  heavy  face. 

What  vanity  he  had  reckoned  on  had  deserted  him 
along  with  any  hope  of  compromising  a  case  only  too 
palpably  against  him.  And  yet,  through  the  rudiments 
of  better  feeling  awakening  within  him,  the  instinct  of 
thrift  still  coloured  his  ideas  a  little. 

"  I'm  dead  wrong,  Aiida.  We  might  just  as  well 
save  fees  and  costs  and  go  over  the  damages  together. 
.  .  .  I'll  pay  them.  I  ought  to,  anyway.  I  suppose 
I  don't  usually  do  what  I  ought.  Malcourt  says  I 
don't — said  so  very  severely — very  mortifyingly  the 
other  day.  So — if  you'll  get  him  or  your  own  men  to 
decide  on  the  amount " 

"  Do  you  think  the  amount  matters  ?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course  it's  principle ;  very  proper  of  you 
to  stand  on  your  dignity 

"  I  am  not  standing  on  it  now ;  I  am  listening  to 
3rour  utter  misapprehension  of  me  and  my  motives.  .  .  . 
I  don't  care  for  an}* — damages." 

402 


A    CAPITULATION 


"  It  is  perfectly  proper  for  you  to  claim  them,  if," 
he  added  cautiously,  "  they  are  within  reason " 

"  Mr.  Portlaw !  " 

"  What?  "  he  asked,  alarmed. 

"  I  would  not  touch  a  penny !  I  meant  to  give  it 
to  the  schools,  here — whatever  I  recovered.  .  .  .  Your 
misunderstanding  of  me  is  abominable !  " 

He  hung  his  head,  heavy-witted,  confused  as  a  stu 
pid  schoolboy,  feeling,  helplessly,  his  clumsiness  of  mind 
and  body. 

Something  of  this  may  have  been  perceptible  to  her 
— may  have  softened  her  ideas  concerning  him — ideas 
which  had  accumulated  bitterness  during  the  year  of 
his  misbehaviour  and  selfish  neglect.  Her  instinct 
divined  in  his  apparently  sullen  attitude  the  slow  in 
telligence  and  mental  perturbation  of  a  wilful,  selfish 
boy  made  stupid  through  idleness  and  self-indulgence. 
Even  what  had  been  clean-cut,  attractive,  in  his  face 
and  figure  was  being  marred  and  coarsened  by  his  sloth 
ful  habits  to  an  extent  that  secretly  dismayed  her;  for 
she  had  always  thought  him  very  handsome;  and,  with 
that  natural  perversity  of  selection,  finding  in  him  a 
perfect  foil  to  her  own  character,  had  been  seriously- 
inclined  to  like  him. 

Attractions  begin  in  that  way,  sometimes,  where  the 
gentler  is  the  stronger,  the  frailer,  the  dominant  char 
acter;  and  the  root  is  in  the  feminine  instinct  to  care 
for,  develop,  and  make  the  most  of  what  palpably  needs 
a  protectorate. 

Without  comprehending  her  own  instinct,  Mrs.  As- 
cott  had  found  the  preliminary  moulding  of  Portlaw  an 
agreeable  diversion ;  had  rather  taken  for  granted  that 
she  was  doing  him  good;  and  was  correspondingly  an 
noyed  when  he  parted  his  moorings  and  started  drift- 

403 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


ing  aimlessly  as  a  derelict  scow  awash,  floundering  sea 
ward  without  further  notice  of  the  trim  little  tug 
standing  by  and  amiably  ready  to  act  as  convoy. 

Now,  sitting  her  saddle  in  silence  she  surveyed  him, 
striving  to  understand  him — his  recent  indifference,  his 
deterioration,  the  present  figure  he  was  cutting.  And 
it  seemed  to  her  a  trifle  sad  that  he  had  no  one  to  tell 
him  a  few  wholesome  truths. 

"  Mr.  Portlaw,"  she  said,  "  do  you  know  that  you 
have  been  exceedingly  rude  to  me?  " 

"  Yes,  I— do  know  it." 

"  Why?  "  she  asked  simply. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Didn't  you  care  for  our  friendship  ?  Didn't  it 
amuse  and  interest  you?  How  could  you  have  done 
the  things  you  did — in  the  way  you  did?  ...  If  you 
had  asked  my  permission  to  build  a  dozen  dams  I'd  have 
given  it.  Didn't  you  know  it?  But  my  self-respect  pro 
tested  when  you  so  cynically  ignored  me " 

"  I'm  a  beast  all  right,"  he  muttered. 

She  gazed  at  him,  softened,  even  faintly  amused  at 
his  repentant  bad-boy  attitude. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  forgive  you,  Mr.  Portlaw?" 

"  Yes— but  you  oughtn't."' 

"  That  is  quite  true.  .  .  .  Turn  your  horse  and 
ride  back  with  me.  I'm  going  to  find  out  exactly  how- 
repentant  you  really  are.  ...  If  you  pass  a  decent  ex 
amination  you  may  dine  with  Miss  Palliser,  Mr.  Way 
ward,  and  me.  It's  too  late  anyway  to  return  through 
the  forest.  .  .  .  I'll  send  you  over  in  the  motor." 

And  as  they  wheeled  and  walked  their  horses  for 
ward  through  the  dusk,  she  said  impulsively: 

"  We  have  four  for  Bridge  if  you  like." 
404 


A    CAPITULATION 


"  Alida,"  he  said  sincerely,  "  you  are  a  corker." 
She  looked  up  demurely.  What  she  could  see  to 
interest  her  in  this  lump  of  a  man  Heaven  alone  knew, 
but  a  hint  of  the  old  half-patient,  half -amused  liking  for 
him  and  his  slow  wits  began  to  nicker  once  more.  De 
gustibus — alas ! 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    RECRUIT 

WHEN  Portlaw  arrived  home  late  that  evening  there 
existed  within  his  somewhat  ordinary  intellect  a  sense  of 
triumph.  The  weak  usually  experience  it  at  the  begin 
ning  and  through  every  step  of  their  own  subjugation. 

Malcourt,  having  decided  to  take  an  express  which 
stopped  on  signal  at  six  in  the  morning,  was  reading 
as  usual  before  the  empty  fireplace;  and  at  the  first 
glance  he  suspected  what  had  begun  to  happen  to  Port- 
law. 

The  latter  bustled  about  the  room  with  an  air  of 
more  or  less  importance,  sorted  his  letters,  fussed  with 
a  newspaper ;  and  every  now  and  then  Malcourt,  glan 
cing  up,  caught  Portlaw's  eyes  peeping  triumphantly 
around  corners  at  him. 

"  You've  been  riding  ? "  he  said,  much  amused. 
"  Are  you  stiff?  " 

"  A  trifle,"  replied  the  other  carelessly.  "  I  must 
keep  it  up.  Really,  you  know,  I've  rather  neglected  the 
horses  lately." 

"  Rather.     So  you're  taking  up  riding  again  ?  " 

Portlaw  nodded :  "  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
I  need  exercise." 

Malcourt,  who  had  been  urging  him  for  years  to 
exercise,  nodded  approval  as  though  the  suggestion  were 
a  brand-new  one. 

406 


THE   SCHOOL    OF    THE   RECRUIT 

"  Yes,"  said  Portlaw,  "  I  shall  ride,  I  think,  every 
day.  I  intend  to  do  a  good  bit  of  tramping,  too.  It's 
excellent  for  the  liver,  Louis." 

At  this  piece  of  inspired  information  Malcourt  as 
sumed  an  expression  of  deepest  interest,  but  hoped 
Portlaw  might  not  overdo  it. 

"  I'm  going  to  diet,  too,"  observed  Portlaw,  watch 
ing  the  effect  of  this  astounding  statement  on  his  super 
intendent.  "  My  theory  is  that  we  all  eat  too  much." 

"  Don't  do  anything  Spartan,"  said  Malcourt  warn- 
ingly ;  "  a  man  at  your  time  of  life " 

"  My — what !  Confound  it,  Louis,  I'm  well  this 
side  of  forty !  " 

"  Yes,  perhaps ;  but  when  a  man  reaches  your  age 
there  is  not  much  left  for  him  but  the  happiness  of 
overeating " 

"What  d'y'  mean?" 

"  Nothing ;  only  as  he's  out  of  the  race  with  younger 
rnen  as  far  as  a  pretty  woman  is  concerned " 

"  Who's  out ! "  demanded  Portlaw,  red  in  the  face. 
"  What  sort  of  men  do  you  suppose  interest  women? 
Broilers?  I  always  thought  your  knowledge  of  women 
was  superficial;  now  I  know  it.  And  you  don't  know 
everything  about  everything  else,  either — about  sum 
monses  and  lawsuits,  for  example."  And  he  cast  an 
exultant  look  at  his  superintendent. 

But  Malcourt  let  him  tell  the  news  in  his  own  way ; 
and  he  did,  imparting  it  in  bits  with  naive  enjoyment, 
apparently  utterly  unconscious  that  he  was  doing  ex 
actly  what  his  superintendent  had  told  him  to  do. 

"You  are  a  diplomat,  aren't  you?  "  said  Malcourt 
with  a  weary  smile. 

"  A  little,  a  little,"  admitted  Portlaw  modestly.  "  I 
merely  mentioned  these  things — "  He  waved  his  hand  to 
27  407 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


check  any  possible  eulogy  of  himself  from  Malcourt. 
"  I'll  merely  say  this :  that  when  I  make  up  my  mind 
to  settle  anything — "  He  waved  his  hand  again,  con 
descendingly. 

"  That  man,"  thought  Malcourt,  "  will  be  done  for 
in  a  year.  Any  woman  could  have  had  him;  the  deuce 
of  it  was  to  find  one  who'd  take  him.  I  think  she's 
found." 

And  looking  up  blandly: 

"  Forty,  old  fellow,  you're  really  rather  past  the 
marrying  age " 

"  I'll  do  what  I  please !  "  shouted  Portlaw,  exasper 
ated. 

Malcourt  had  two  ways  of  making  Portlaw  do  a 
thing;  one  was  to  tell  him  not  to,  the  other  the  reverse. 
He  always  ended  by  doing  it  anyway ;  but  the  quicker 
result  was  obtained  by  the  first  method. 

So  Malcourt  went  to  New  York  next  morning  con 
vinced  that  Portlaw's  bachelor  days  were  numbered; 
aware,  also,  that  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Ascott  took  the  helm 
his  own  tenure  of  office  would  promptly  expire.  He 
wished  it  to  expire,  easily,  agreeably,  naturally;  and 
that  is  why  he  had  chosen  to  shove  Portlaw  in  the  gen 
eral  direction  of  the  hymeneal  altar. 

He  did  not  care  very  much  for  Portlaw — scarcely 
enough  to  avoid  hurting  his  feelings  by  abandoning 
him.  But  now  he  had  arranged  it  so  that  to  all  appear 
ances  the  abandoning  would  be  done  by  Portlaw, 
inspired  by  the  stronger  mind  of  Mrs.  Ascott.  It  had 
been  easy  and  rather  amusing  to  arrange;  it  saved 
wordy  and  endless  disputes  with  Portlaw ;  it  would  give 
him  a  longed-for  release  from  an  occupation  he  had 
come  to  hate. 

Malcourt  was  tired.  He  wanted  a  year  of  freedom 
408 


THE   SCHOOL    OF    THE   RECRUIT 

from  dependence,  surcease  of  responsibility — a  year  to 
roam  where  he  wished,  foregather  with  whom  he  pleased, 
haunt  the  places  congenial  to  him,  come  and  go  unham 
pered;  a  year  of  it — only  one  year.  What  remained 
for  him  to  do  after  the  year  had  expired  he  thought 
he  understood ;  yes,  he  was  practically  certain — had  al 
ways  been. 

But  first  must  come  that  wonderful  year  he  had 
planned — or,  if  he  tired  of  the  pleasure  sooner,  then, 
as  the  caprice  stirred  him,  he  would  do  what  he  had 
planned  to  do  ever  since  his  father  died.  The  details 
only  remained  to  be  settled. 

For  Malcourt,  with  all  the  contradictions  in  his 
character,  all  his  cynicism,  effrontery,  ruthlessness,  pre 
ferred  to  do  things  in  a  manner  calculated  to  spare  the 
prejudices  of  others;  and  if  there  was  a  way  to  accom 
plish  a  thing  without  hurting  people,  he  usually  took 
the  trouble  to  do  it  in  that  way.  If  not,  he  did  it  any 
way. 

And  now,  at  last,  he  saw  before  him  the  beginning 
of  that  curious  year  for  which  he  had  so  long  waited ; 
and,  concerning  the  closing  details  of  which,  he  had 
pondered  so  often  with  his  dark,  handsome  head  lowered 
and  slightly  turned,  listening,  always  listening. 

But  nothing  of  this  had  he  spoken  of  to  his  wife. 
It  was  not  necessary.  He  had  a  year  in  which  to  live 
in  a  certain  manner  and  do  a  certain  thing ;  and  it  was 
going  to  amuse  him  to  do  it  in  a  way  which  would  harm 
nobody. 

The  year  promised  to  be  an  interesting  one,  to  judge 
from  all  signs.  For  one  item  his  sister,  Lady  Tressil- 
vain,  was  impending  from  Paris — also  his  brother-in-law 
— complicating  the  humour  of  the  visitation.  Mai- 
court's  marriage  to  an  heiress  was  the  perfectly  obvious 

409 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


incentive  of  the  visit.  And  when  they  wrote  that  they 
were  coming  to  New  York,  it  amused  Malcourt  exceed 
ingly  to  invite  them  to  Luckless  Lake.  But  he  said 
nothing  about  it  to  Portlaw  or  his  wife. 

Then,  for  another  thing,  the  regeneration  and  de 
velopment,  ethically  and  artistically,  of  Dolly  Wilming 
amused  him.  He  wanted  to  be  near  enough  to  watch 
it — without ,  however,  any  real  faith  in  its  continuation. 

And,  also,  there  was  Miss  Suydam.  Her  develop 
ment  would  not  be  quite  as  agreeable  to  witness ;  process 
of  disillusioning  her,  little  by  little,  until  he  had  un 
dermined  himself  sufficiently  to  make  the  final  break 
with  her  very  easy — for  her.  Of  course  it  interested 
him;  all  intrigue  did  where  skill  was  required  with 
women. 

And,  last  of  all,  yet  of  supreme  importance,  he  de 
sired  leisure,  undisturbed,  to  study  his  own  cumulative 
development,  to  humorously  thwart  it,  or  misunderstand 
it,  or  styly  aid  it  now  and  then — always  aware  of 
and  attentive  to  that  extraneous  something  which  held 
him  so  motionless,  at  moments,  listening  attentively  as 
though  to  a  command. 

For,  from  that  morning  four  years  ago  when, 
crushed  with  fatigue,  he  strove  to  keep  his  vigil  beside 
his  father  who,  toward  daybreak,  had  been  feigning 
sleep — from  that  dreadful  dawn  when,  waking  with  the 
crash  of  the  shot  in  his  ears,  his  blinded  gaze  beheld  the 
passing  of  a  soul — he  understood  that  he  was  no  longer 
his  own  master. 

Not  that  the  occult  triad,  Chance,  Fate,  and  Destiny 
ruled ;  they  only  modified  his  orbit.  But  from  the  centre 
of  things  Something  that  ruled  them  was  pulling  him 
toward  it,  slowly,  steadily,  inexorably  drawing  him 
nearer,  lessening  the  circumference  of  his  path,  at- 

410 


THE   SCHOOL   OF   THE   RECRUIT 

tenuating  it,  circumscribing,  limiting,  controlling.  And 
long  since  he  had  learned  to  name  this  thing,  undis 
mayed — this  one  thing  remaining  in  the  world  in  which 
his  father's  son  might  take  a  sporting  interest. 

He  had  been  in  New  York  two  weeks,  enjoying  ex 
istence  in  his  own  fashion,  untroubled  by  any  demands, 
questions,  or  scruples  concerning  responsibility,  when  a 
passionate  letter  from  Portlaw  disturbed  the  placid  in 
terlude  : 

"  Confound  it,  Louis,  haven't  you  the  common  de 
cency  to  come  back  when  you  know  I've  had  a  bunch  of 
people  here  to  be  entertained? 

"  Nobody's  heard  a  peep  from  you.  What  on  earth 
do  you  mean  by  this? 

"  Miss  Palliser,  Mrs.  Ascott,  Miss  Cardross  are  here, 
also  Wayward,  and  Gray  Cardross — which  with  you  and 
Mrs.  Malcourt  and  myself  solves  the  Bridge  proposition 
— or  would  have  solved  it.  But  without  warning,  yes 
terday,  your  sister  and  brother-in-law  arrived,  bag  and 
baggage,  and  Mrs.  Malcourt  has  given  them  the  west 
wing  of  your  house.  I  believe  she  was  as  astonished  as 
I,  but  she  will  not  admit  it. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  this  is  some  sorry  jest  of 
yours — not  that  Lady  Tressilvain  and  her  noble  spouse 
are  unwelcome — but  for  Heaven's  sake  consider  Way- 
ward's  feelings — cooped  up  in  camp  with  his  ex-wife! 
It  wasn't  a  very  funny  thing  to  do,  Louis ;  but  now  that 
it's  done  you  can  come  back  and  take  care  of  the  mess 
you've  made. 

"  As  for  Mrs.  Malcourt,  she  is  not  merely  a  trump, 
she  is  a  hundred  aces  and  a  grand  slam  in  a  redoubled 
Without! — if  that's  possible.  But  Mrs.  Ascott  is  my 

411 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


pillar  of  support  in  what  might  easily  become  a  fool 
of  a  situation. 

"  And  you,  you  amateur  idiot ! — are  down  there  in 
town,  humorously  awaiting  the  shriek  of  anguish  from 
me.  Well,  you've  heard  me.  But  it's  not  a  senseless 
shriek ;  it's  a  dignified  protest.  I  tell  you  I've  learned 
to  depend  on  myself,  recently — at  Mrs.  Ascott's  sug 
gestion.  And  I'm  doing  it  now  by  wiring  Virginia 
Suydam  to  come  and  fill  in  the  third  table. 

"  Now  I  want  you  to  come  back  at  once.  If  you 
don't  I'm  going  to  have  a  serious  talk  with  you,  Louis. 
I've  taken  Mrs.  Ascott  into  my  confidence  more  or  less 
and  she  agrees  with  me  that  I  ought  to  lay  down  a 
strong,  rigid  policy  and  that  it  is  your  duty  to  execute 
it.  In  fact  she  also  took  me  into  her  confidence  and 
gave  me,  at  my  request,  a  very  clear  idea  of  how  she 
would  run  this  place ;  and  to  my  surprise  and  gratifica 
tion  I  find  that  her  ideas  of  discipline,  taste,  and  economy 
are  exactly  mine,  although  I  thought  of  them  first  and 
perhaps  have  influenced  her  in  this  matter  as  I  have 
in  others.  That  is,  of  course,  natural,  she  being  a 
woman. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  be  frank  with  you,  Louis.  It 
isn't  good  form  for  you  to  leave  Mrs.  Malcourt  the  way 
you  do  every  week  or  two  and  disappear  in  New  York 
and  give  no  explanation.  You  haven't  been  married 
long  enough  to  do  that.  It  isn't  square  to  me,  either. 

"  And  while  I'm  about  it  I  want  to  add  that,  at 
Mrs.  Ascott's  suggestion — which  really  is  my  own  idea 
— I  have  decided  not  to  build  all  those  Rhine  castles, 
which  useless  notion,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  originated 
with  you.  I  don't  want  to  disfigure  my  beautiful  wil 
derness.  Mrs.  Ascott  and  I  had  a  very  plain  talk  with 
Hamil  and  we  forced  him  to  agree  with  us  that  the 


THE   SCHOOL    OF   THE   RECRUIT 

less  he  did  to  improve  my  place  the  better  for  the  place. 
He  seemed  to  take  it  good-humouredly.  He  left  yes 
terday  to  look  over  Mrs.  Ascott's  place  and  plan  for 
her  a  formal  garden  and  Trianon  at  Pride's  Hall.  So 
he  being  out  I  wired  also  to  Virginia  and  to  Philip  Gate- 
wood,  which  will  make  it  right — four  at  a  table.  Your 
brother-in-law  plays  a  stiff  game  and  your  sister  is  a 
wonder! — five  grand  slams  last  night!  But  I  played 
like  a  dub — I'd  been  riding  and  walking  and  canoeing 
all  day  with  Mrs.  Ascott  and  I  was  terribly  sleepy. 

"  So  come  on  up,  Louis.  I'll  forgive  you — but  don't 
mind  if  I  growl  at  you  before  Mrs.  Ascott  as  she  thinks 
I  ought  to  discipline  you.  And,  confound  it,  I  ought 
to,  and  I  will,  too,  if  you  don't  look  out.  But  I'll  be 
devilish  glad  to  see  you. 
"  Yours, 

"W.  VAN  BEUREN  PORTLAW." 

Malcourt,  in  his  arm-chair  by  the  open  window,  lay 
back  full  length,  every  fibre  of  him  vibrating  with 
laughter. 

Dolly  Wilming  at  the  piano  continued  running  over 
the  pretty  firework  melodies  of  last  season's  metropoli 
tan  success — a  success  built  entirely  on  a  Viennese  waltz, 
the  air  of  which  might  have  been  taken  from  almost 
«iny  popular  Yankee  hymn-book. 

He  folded  Portlaw's  letter  and  pocketed  it;  and  lay 
for  a  while  under  the  open  window,  enjoying  his  own 
noiseless  mirth,  gaily  accompanied  by  Dolly  Wilming's 
fresh,  clear  singing  or  her  capricious  improvising. 

Begonias  bloomed  in  a  riotous  row  on  the  sill,  nod 
ding  gently  in  the  river-wind  which  also  fluttered  the 
flags  and  sails  on  yacht,  schooner,  and  sloop  under  the 
wall  of  the  Palisades. 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


That  day  the  North  River  was  more  green  than  blue 
— like  the  eyes  of  a  girl  he  knew ;  summer,  crowned  and 
trimmed  with  green,  brooded  on  the  long  rock  rampart 
across  the  stream.  Turquoise  patches  of  sky  and  big 
clouds,  leafy  parapets,  ships  passing  to  the  sea;  and 
in  mid-stream  an  anchored  island  of  steel  painted  white 
and  buff,  bristling  with  long  thin  guns,  the  flower-like 
flag  rippling  astern ;  another  battle-ship  farther  north ; 
another,  another;  and  farther  still  the  white  tomb — un 
lovely  mansion  of  the  dead — on  outpost  duty  above  the 
river,  guarding  with  the  warning  of  its  dead  glories 
the  unlovely  mansions  of  the  living  ranged  along  the 
most  noble  terrace  in  the  world. 

And  everywhere  to  north,  south,  and  east,  the  end 
less  waste  of  city,  stark,  clean-cut,  naked  alike  of  tree 
and  of  art,  unsoftened  even  by  the  haze  of  its  own 
exudations — everywhere  the  window-riddled  blocks  of 
oblongs  and  cubes  gridironed  with  steel  rails — New 
York  in  all  the  painted  squalor  of  its  Pueblo  splendour. 

"  You  say  you  are  doing  well  in  everything  except 
French  and  Italian?  " 

Dolly,  still  humming  to  her  own  accompaniment, 
looked  over  her  shoulder  and  nodded. 

"  Well,  how  the  dickens  are  you  ever  going  to  sing 
at  either  Opera  or  on  the  road  or  anywhere  if  you  don't 
I  learn  French  and  Italian?  " 
"  I'm  trying,  Louis." 

"  Go  ahead ;  let's  hear  something,  then." 
[And  she   sang  very   intelligently  and   in   excellent 
taste : 

"  Pendant  que,  plein  d'amour,  j 'expire  a  votre  porte, 
Vous  dormez  d'un  paisible  sommeil — " 

and  tlirned  questioningly  to  him. 


THE   SCHOOL    OF    THE   RECRUIT 

"  That's  all  right;  try  another." 
So,  serenely  obedient,  she  sang: 

"  Chantons  Margot,  nos  amours, 
Margot  leste  et  bien  tournee — " 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  anything  the  matter  with  your 
French,"  he  muttered. 

The  girl  coloured  with  pleasure,  resting  pensively 
above  the  key-board;  but  he  had  no  further  requests 
to  make  and  presently  she  swung  around  on  the  piano- 
stool,  looking  at  him. 

"  You  sing  all  right ;  you  are  doing  your  part — 
as  far  as  I  can  discover." 

"  There  is  nothing  for  you  to  discover  that  I  have 
not  told  you,"  she  said  gravely.  In  her  manner  there 
was  a  subdued  dignity  which  he  had  noticed  recently — 
something  of  the  self-confidence  of  the  very  young  and 
unspoiled — which,  considering  all  things,  he  could  not 
exactly  account  for. 

"  Does  that  doddering  old  dancing-master  of  yours 
behave  himself?  " 

"  Yes — since  you  spoke  to  him.  Mr.  Bulder  came 
to  the  school  again." 

"  What  did  you  say  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  that  you  wouldn't  let  me  sing  in 
6  The  Inca.'  » 

"  And  what  did  Bulder  say?  " 

"  He  was  persistent  but  perfectly  respectful ;  asked 
if  he  might  confer  with  you.  He  wrote  to  you  I  think, 
didn't  he?" 

Malcourt  nodded  and  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"  Dolly,"  he  said,  "  do  you  want  to  sing  ChasJce 
in  *  The  Inca  '  next  winter?  " 

415 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"Yes,  I  do— if  you  think  it  is  all  right."  She 
added  in  a  low  voice:  "  I  want  to  do  what  will  please 
you,  Louis." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it's  the  best  thing  to  do, 
but — you  may  have  to."  He  laid  his  cigarette  in  a 
saucer,  watched  the  smoke  curling  ceilingward,  and  said 
as  though  to  himself: 

"  I  should  like  to  be  certain  that  you  can  support 
yourself — within  a  reasonable  time  from  now — say  a 
year.  That  is  all,  Dolly." 

"  I  can  do  it  now  if  you  wish  it — "  The  expression 
of  his  face  checked  her. 

"  I  don't  mean  a  variety  career  devoted  to  *  mother  * 
songs,"  he  said  with  a  sneer.  "  There's  a  middle  course 
between  diamonds  and  '  sinkers.'  You'll  get  there  if  you 
don't  kick  over  the  traces.  .  .  .  Have  you  made  any 
more  friends  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Are  they  respectable?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  colouring. 

"Has  anybody  been  impertinent?" 

"  Mr.  Williams." 

"I'll  attend  to  him— the  little  squirt!  .  .  .  Who 
are  your  new  friends  ?  " 

"  There's  a  perfectly  sweet  girl  in  the  French  class, 
Marguerite  Barret.  I  think  she  likes  me.  .  .  .  Louis, 
I  don't  believe  you  understand  how  very  happy  I  am 
beginning  to  be " 

"  Do  people  come  here?  " 

"Yes,  on  Sunday  afternoons;  I  know  nearly  a 
dozen  nice  girls  now,  and  those  men  I  told  you  about — 
Mr.  Snyder,  Mr.  Jim  Anthony  and  his  brother  the 
artist,  and  Mr.  Cass  and  Mr.  Renwick." 

"  You  can  cut  out  Renwick,"  he  said  briefly. 
416 


THE   SCHOOL   OF   THE   RECRUIT 

She  seemed  surprised.  "  He  has  always  been  per 
fectly  nice  to  me,  Louis " 

"  Cut  him  out,  Dolly.     I  know  the  breed." 

"  Of  course,  if  you  wish." 

He  looked  at  her,  convinced  in  spite  of  himself. 
"  Always  ask  me  about  people.  If  I  don't  know  I  can 
find  out." 

" 1  always  do,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you  do.  ...  You're  all  right, 
Dolly — so  far.  .  .  .  There,  don't  look  at  me  in  that 
distressed-dove  fashion ;  I  know  you  are  all  right  and 
mean  to  be  for  your  own  sake " 

"  For  yours  also,"  she  said. 

"  Oh — that's  all  right,  too — story-book  fidelity ;  my 
preserver  ever! — What? — Sure — and  a  slow  curtain. 
.  .  .  There,  there,  Dolly — where's  your  sense  of  hu 
mour!  Good  Lord,  what's  changing  you  into  a  bread- 
and-butter  boarding-school  sentimentalist ! — to  feel  hurt 
at  nothing!  Hello!  look  at  that  kitten  of  yours  climb 
ing  your  silk  curtains  !  Spank  the  rascal !  " 

But  the  girl  caught  up  the  kitten  and  tucked  it  up 
under  her  chin,  smiling  across  at  Malcourt,  who  had 
picked  up  his  hat,  gloves,  and  stick. 

"  Will  you  come  to-morrow?  "  she  asked. 

"  I'm  going  away  for  a  while." 

Her  face  fell;  she  rose,  placed  the  kitten  on  the 
lounge,  and  walked  up  to  him,  both  hands  clasped  loosely 
behind  her  back,  wistfully  acquiescent. 

"  It's  going  to  be  lonely  again  for  me,"  she  said. 

"Nonsense!  You've  just  read  me  your  visiting 
list " 

"  I  had  rather  have  you  here  than  anybody." 

"  Dolly,  you'll  get  over  that  absurd  sense  of  ob 
ligatory  regard  for  me -" 

417 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  I  had  rather  have  you,  Louis." 

"  I  know.  That's  very  sweet  of  you — and  very 
proper.  .  .  .  You  are  all  right.  .  .  .  I'll  be  back  in  a 
week  or  ten  days,  and,"  smilingly,  "  mind  you  have  your 
report  ready!  If  you've  been  a  good  girl  we'll  talk 
over  '  The  Inca  '  again  and — perhaps — we'll  have  Mr. 
Bulder  up  to  luncheon.  .  .  .  Good-bye." 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  looking  up  into  his  face. 

"  Smile !  "  he  insisted. 

She  smiled. 

So  he  went  away,  rather  satiated  with  the  pleasures 
of  self-denial ;  but  the  lightly  latent  mockery  soon  broke 
out  again  in  a  smile  as  he  reached  the  street. 

"What  a  mess!"  he  grinned  to  himself.  "The 
Tressilvains  at  Portlaw's!  And  Wayward!  and  Shiela 
and  Virginia  and  that  awful  Louis  Malcourt!  It  only 
wants  Hamil  to  make  the  j  oiliest  little  hell  of  it.  O  my, 
O  my,  what  an  amusing  mess !  " 

However,  he  knew  what  Portlaw  didn't  know,  that 
Virginia  would  never  accept  that  invitation,  and  that 
neither  Wayward  nor  Constance  Palliser  would  remain 
one  day  under  the  roof  that  harboured  the  sister  of  Louis 
Malcourt. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  CONFERENCE 

WHEN  Malcourt  arrived  at  Luckless  Lake  Sunday 
evening  he  found  Portlaw  hunched  up  in  an  arm-chair, 
all  alone  in  the  living-room,  although  the  hour  was  still 
early. 

"  Where's  your  very  agreeable  house-party  ?  "  he  in 
quired,  looking  about  the  empty  room  and  hall  with  an 
air  of  troubled  surprise. 

"  Gone  to  bed,"  replied  Portlaw  irritably,—"  what's 
left  of  'em."  And  he  continued  reading  "  The  Pink 
'Un." 

"  Really !  "  said  Malcourt  in  polite  concern. 

"  Yes,  really !  "  snapped  Portlaw.  "  Mrs.  Ascott 
went  to  Pride's  and  took  Wayward  and  Constance  Pal- 
liser;  that  was  Friday.  And  Gray  and  Cecile  joined 
them  yesterday.  It's  been  a  horrible  house-party ;  no 
body  had  any  use  for  anybody  else  and  it  has  rained 
every  day  and — and — to  be  plain  with  you,  Louis,  no 
body  is  enchanted  with  your  relatives  and  that's  the 
unpleasant  truth !  " 

"  I  don't  blame  anybody,"  returned  Malcourt  sin 
cerely,  removing  his  driving-gloves  and  shaking  off  his 
wet  box-coat.  "  Why,  I  can  scarcely  stand  them  myself, 
William.  Where  are  they?  " 

"  In  the  west  wing  of  your  house — preparing  to  re 
main  indefinitely. 

419 


THE   FIRING   'LINE 


"  Dear,  dear !  "  exclaimed  Malcourt.  "  What  on 
earth  shall  we  do?  "  And  he  peered  sideways  at  Port- 
law  with  his  tongue  in  his  cheek. 

"  Do?  I  don't  know.  Why  the  devil  did  you  sug 
gest  that  they  stop  at  your  house?  " 

"  Because,  William,  curious  as  it  may  seem,  I  had 
a  sort  of  weak-minded  curiosity  to  see  my  sister  once 
more."  He  walked  over  to  the  table,  took  a  cigarette 
and  lighted  it,  then  stood  regarding  the  burning  match 
in  his  fingers.  "  She's  the  last  of  the  family ;  I'll  prob 
ably  never  see  her  again " 

"  She  appears  to  be  in  excellent  health,"  remarked 
Portlaw  viciously. 

"  So  am  I;  but — "  He  shrugged  and  tossed  the 
embers  of  the  match  onto  the  hearth. 

"But  what?" 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  take  a  vacation  pretty  soon — 
a  sort  of  voyage,  and  a  devilish  long  one,  William. 
That's  why  I  wanted  to  see  her  again." 

"  You  mean  to  tell  me  you  are  going  away  ?  "  de 
manded  the  other  indignantly. 

Malcourt  laughed.  "  Oh,  yes.  I  planned  it  long 
ago — one  morning  toward  daybreak  years  ago.  ...  A 
— a  relative  of  mine  started  on  the  same  voyage  rather 
unexpectedly.  .  .  .  I've  heard  very  often  from  him 
since;  I'm  curious  to  try  it,  too — when  he  makes  up  his 
mind  to  invite  me " 

"  When  are  you  starting? "  interrupted  Portlaw, 
disgusted. 

"  Oh,  not  for  a  while,  I  think.  I  won't  embarrass 
you;  I'll  leave  everything  in  ship-shaj 

"  Where  are  you  going? — dammit! 

Malcourt  looked  at  him  humorously,  head  on  one 
side.  "  I  am  not  perfectly  sure,  dear  friend.  I  hate  ta 

420 


A    CONFERENCE 


know  all  about  a  thing  before  I  do  it.    Otherwise  there's 
no  sporting  interest  in  it." 

"  You  mean  to  tell  me  that  you're  going  off 
a-gipsying  without  any  definite  plans?  " 

"  Gipsying?  "  he  laughed.  "  Well,  that  may  per 
haps  describe  it.  I  don't  know ;  I  have  no  plans.  That's 
the  charm  of  it.  When  one  grows  tired,  that  is  the 
restful  part  of  it — to  simply  start,  having  no  plans; 
just  to  leave,  and  drift  away  haphazard.  One  is  al 
ways  bound  to  arrive  somewhere,  William." 

He  had  been  pacing  backward  and  forward,  the 
burning  cigarette  balanced  between  his  fingers,  turning 
his  handsome  head  from  time  to  time  to  answer  Port- 
law's  ill-tempered  questions.  Now  he  halted,  dark  eyes 
roving  about  the  room.  They  fell  and  lingered  on  a 
card-table  where  some  empty  glasses  decorated  the 
green  baize  top. 

"Bridge?"  he  queried. 

"  Unfortunately,"  growled  Portlaw. 

"Who?" 

"  Mrs.  Malcourt  and  I  versus  your — ah — talented 
family." 

"  Mrs.  Malcourt  doesn't  gamble." 

"  Tressilvain  and  I  did." 

"  Were  you  badly  stung,  dear  friend?" 

Portlaw  muttered. 

Malcourt  lifted  his  expressive  eyebrows. 

"  Why  didn't  you  try  my  talented  relative  again  to 
night?" 

"  Mrs.  Malcourt  had  enough,"  said  Portlaw  briefly ; 
then  mumbled  something  injuriously  unintelligible. 

"  I  think  I'll  go  over  to  the  house  and  see  if  my 
gifted  brother-in-law  has  retired,"  said  Malcourt,  add 
ing  carelessly9  "  I  suppose  Mrs.  Malcourt  is  asleep." 

421 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  It  wouldn't  surprise  me,"  replied  Portlaw.  And 
Malcourt  was  free  to  interpret  the  remark  as  he  chose. 

He  went  away  thoughtfully,  crossing  the  lawn  in 
the  rainy  darkness,  and  came  to  the  garden  where  his 
own  dogs  barked  at  him — a  small  thing  to  depress  a 
man,  but  it  did ;  and  it  was  safer  for  the  dogs,  perhaps, 
that  they  sniffed  recognition  before  they  came  too  near 
with  their  growls  and  barking.  But  he  opened  the  gate, 
disdaining  to  speak  to  them,  and  when  they  knew  him, 
it  was  a  pack  of  very  humble,  wet,  and  penitent  hounds 
that  came  wagging  up  alongside.  He  let  them  wag 
unnoticed. 

Lights  burned  in  his  house,  one  in  Shiela's  apart 
ments,  several  in  the  west  wing  where  the  Tressilvains 
were  housed.  A  servant,  locking  up  for  the  night,  came 
across  the  dripping  veranda  to  admit  him;  and  he 
went  upstairs  and  knocked  at  his  wife's  door. 

Shiela's  maid  opened,  hesitated ;  and  a  moment  later 
Shiela  appeared,  fully  dressed,  a  book  in  her  hand.  It 
was  one  of  Hamil's  architectural  volumes. 

"  Well,  Shiela,"  he  said  lightly ;  "  I  got  in  to-night 
and  rather  expected  to  see  somebody ;  but  nobody  waited 
up  to  see  me !  I'm  rather  wet — it's  raining — so  I  won't 
trouble  you.  I  only  wanted  to  say  good  night." 

The  quick  displeasure  in  her  face  died  out.  She 
dismissed  the  maid,  and  came  slowly  forward.  Beneath 
the  light  her  face  looked  much  thinner ;  he  noticed  dark 
shadows  under  the  eyes ;  the  eyes  themselves  seemed  tired 
and  expressionless. 

"  Aren't  you  well  ?  "  he  asked  bluntly. 

"  Perfectly.  .  .  .  Was  it  you  the  dogs  were  so  noisy 
about  just  now?  " 

"  Yes ;  it  seems  that  even  my  own  dogs  resent  my 
return.  Well — good  night.  I'm  glad  you're  all  right." 


A  CONFERENCE 


Something  in  his  voice,  more  than  in  the  words,  ar 
rested  her  listless  attention. 

"Will  you  come  in,  Louis?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  keeping  you  awake.  Besides  I'm 
wet " 

"  Come  in  and  tell  me  where  you've  been — if  you 
care  to.  Would  you  like  some  tea — or  something?  " 

He  shook  his  head,  but  followed  her  into  the  small 
receiving-room.  There  he  declined  an  offered  chair. 

"  I've  been  in  New  York.  .  .  .  No,  I  did  not  see 
your  family.  ...  As  for  what  I've  been  doing " 

Her  lifted  eyes  betrayed  no  curiosity ;  a  growing 
sense  of  depression  crept  over  him. 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "it  doesn't  matter."  And 
turned  toward  the  door. 

She  looked  into  the  empty  fireplace  with  a  sigh; 
then,  gently,  "  I  don't  mean  to  make  it  any  drearier  for 
you  than  I  can  help." 

He  considered  her  a  moment. 

"  Are  you  really  well,  Shiela  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes ;  only  a  little  tired.     I  do  not  sleep  well." 

He  nodded  toward  the  west  wing  of  the  house. 

"  Do  they  bother  you?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

He  said :  "  Thank  you  for  putting  them  up.  We'll 
get  rid  of  them  if  they  annoy  you." 

"  They  are  quite  welcome." 

"  That's  very  decent  of  you,  Shiela.  I  dare  say  you 
have  not  found  them  congenial." 

"  We  have  nothing  in  common.  I  think  they  con 
sider  me  a  fool." 

"  Why  ?  "     He  looked  up,  keenly  humourous. 

"  Because  I  don't  understand  their  inquiries.  Be 
sides,  I  don't  gamble " 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  What  kind  of  inquiries  do  they  make  ?  " 

"  Personal  ones,"  she  said  quietly. 

He  laughed.  "  They're  probably  more  offensively 
impertinent  than  the  Chinese — that  sort  of  Briton.  I 
think  I'll  step  into  the  west  wing  and  greet  my  relations. 
I  won't  impose  them  on  you  for  very  long.  Do  you 
know  when  they  are  going?  " 

"  I  think  they  have  made  plans  to  remain  here  for  a 
while." 

"Really?"  he  sneered.  "Well,  leave  that  to  me, 
Shiela," 

So  he  crossed  into  the  western  wing  and  found  the 
Tressilvains  tete-a-tete  over  a  card-table,  deeply  inter 
ested  in  something  that  resembled  legerdemain;  and  he 
stood  at  the  door  and  watched  them  with  a  smile  that 
was  not  agreeable. 

"  Well,  Helen!  "  he  said  at  last;  and  Lady  Tressil- 
vain  started,  and  her  husband  rose  to  the  full  height 
of  his  five  feet  nothing,  dropping  the  pack  which  he 
had  been  so  nimbly  manipulating  for  his  wife's  amuse 
ment. 

"  Where  the  devil  did  you  come  from  ?  "  blurted  his 
lordship ;  but  his  wife  made  a  creditable  appearance  in 
her  role  of  surprised  sisterly  affection;  and  when  the 
two  men  had  gone  through  the  form  of  family  greet 
ing  they  all  sat  down  for  the  conventional  family 
confab. 

Tressilvain  said  little  but  drank  a  great  deal  of 
whisky — his  long,  white,  bony  fingers  were  always 
spread  around  his  glass — unusually  long  fingers  for  such 
a  short  man,  and  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  scant 
five-foot  frame,  topped  with  a  little  pointed  head,  in 
which  the  eyes  were  set  exactly  as  glass  eyes  are  screwed 
into  the  mask  of  a  fox. 

424 


A    CONFERENCE 


"  Bertie  and  I  have  been  practising  leads  from  trick 
hands,"  observed  Lady  Tressilvain,  removing  the  ice 
from  her  glass  and  filling  it  from  a  soda  bottle  which 
Malcourt  uncorked  for  her. 

"  Well,  Herby,"  said  Malcourt  genially,  "  I  sup 
pose  you  and  Helen  play  a  game  well  worth — ah — 
watching." 

Tressilvain  looked  dully  annoyed,  although  there  was 
nothing  in  his  brother-in-law's  remark  to  ruffle  anybody, 
except  that  his  lordship  did  not  like  to  be  called  Herby. 
He  sat  silent,  caressing  his  glass ;  and  presently  his 
little  black  eyes  stole  around  in  Malcourt's  direction, 
and  remained  there,  waveringly,  while  brother  and  sis 
ter  discussed  the  former's  marriage,  the  situation  at 
Luckless  Lake,  and  future  prospects. 

That  is  to  say,  Lady  Tressilvain  did  the  discussing ; 
Malcourt,  bland,  amiable,  remained  uncommunicatively 
polite,  parrying  everything  so  innocently  that  his  sister, 
deceived,  became  plainer  in  her  questions  concerning  the 
fortune  he  was  supposed  to  have  married,  and  more  per 
sistent  in  her  suggestions  of  a  winter  in  New  York — a 
delightful  and  prolonged  family  reunion,  in  which  the 
Tressilvains  were  to  figure  as  distinguished  guests  and 
virtual  pensioners  of  everybody  connected  with  his  wife's 
family. 

"  Do  you  think,"  drawled  Malcourt,  intercepting  a 
furtive  glance  between  his  sister  and  brother-in-law,  to 
that  gentleman's  slight  confusion,  "  do  you  think  it 
might  prove  interesting  to  you  and  Herby  ?  Americans 
are  so  happy  to  have  your  countrymen  to  entertain — 
particularly  when  their  credentials  are  as  unquestionable 
as  Herby's  and  yours." 

For  a  full  minute,  in  strained  silence,  the  concen 
trated  gaze  of  the  Tressilvains  was  focused  upon  the 

425 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


guileless  countenance  of  Malcourt ;  and  discovered  noth 
ing  except  a  fatuous  cordiality. 

Lady  Tressilvain  drew  a  deep,  noiseless  breath  and 
glanced  at  her  husband. 

"  I  don't  understand,  Louis,  exactly  what  settlement 
— what  sort  of  arrangement  you  made  when  you  mar 
ried  this — very  interesting  young  girl " 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  have  anything  to  endow  her  with," 
said  Malcourt,  so  amiably  stupid  that  his  sister  bit  her 

UP. 

Tressilvain  essayed  a  jest. 

"  Rather  good,  that !  "  he  said  with  his  short,  bark 
ing  laugh ;  "  but  I  da'say  the  glove  was  on  the  other 
hand,  eh,  Louis  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  Why  the — ah — the  lady  did  the  endowing  and  all 
that,  don't  you  see?  " 

"  See  what?  "  asked  Malcourt  so  pleasantly  that  his 
sister  shot  a  look  at  her  husband  which  checked  him. 

Malcourt  was  now  on  maliciously  humourous  terms 
with  himself;  he  began  to  speak  impulsively,  affection 
ately,  with  all  the  appearance  of  a  garrulous  younger 
brother  impatient  to  unbosom  himself  to  his  family; 
and  he  talked  and  talked,  confidingly,  guilelessly,  vo 
luminously,  yet  managed  to  say  absolutely  nothing. 
And,  strain  their  ears  as  they  might,  the  Tressilvains 
in  their  perplexity  and  increasing  impatience  could 
make  out  nothing  of  all  this  voluntary  information — 
understand  nothing — pick  out  not  one  single  fact  to 
satisfy  their  desperately  hungry  curiosity. 

There  was  no  use  interrupting  him  with  questions ; 
he  answered  them  with  others ;  he  whispered  ambiguities 
in  a  manner  most  portentous ;  hinted  at  bewildering 
paradoxes  with  an  air ;  nodded  mysterious  nothings,  and 

426 


A  CONFERENCE 


finally  left  them  gaping  at  him,  exasperated,  unable  to 
make  any  sense  out  of  what  most  astonishingly  resem 
bled  a  candid  revelation  of  the  hopes,  fears,  ambitions, 
and  worldly  circumstances  of  Louis  Maloourt. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said,  lingering  at  the  door  to  look 
upon  and  enjoy  the  fruit  of  his  perversity  and  malice. 
"  When  I  start  on  that  journey  I  mentioned  to  you 
I'll  leave  something  for  you  and  Herby — merely  to  show 
you  how  much  I  think  of  my  own  people — a  little  gift 
— a  trifle !  No — no !  " — lifting  his  hand  with  smiling 
depreciation  as  Tressilvain  began  to  thank  him.  "  One 
must  look  out  for  one's  own  family.  It's  natural — only 
natural  to  make  some  provision.  Good-night,  Helen ! 
Good-night,  Herby.  Portlaw  and  I  will  take  you  on 
at  Bridge  if  it  rains  to-morrow.  It  will  be  a  privi 
lege  for  us  to — ah — watch  your  game — closely.  Good 
night*" 

And  closed  the  door. 

"  What  the  devil  does  he  mean?  "  demanded  Tressil 
vain,  peering  sideways  at  his  wife. 

"  I  don't  exactly  know,"  she  said  thoughtfully, 
sorting  the  cards.  She  added:  "  If  we  play  to-morrow 
you  stick  to  signals;  do  you  understand?  And  keep 
your  ring  and  your  fingers  off  the  cards  until  I  can 
make  up  my  mind  about  my  brother.  You're  a  fool  to 
drink  American  whisky  the  way  you  did  yesterday. 
Mr.  Portlaw  noticed  the  roughness  on  the  aces;  you 
pricked  them  too  deep.  You'd  better  keep  your  wits 
about  you,  7  can  tell  you.  I'm  a  Yankee  myself." 

"  Right— O !  But  I  say,  Helen,  I'm  damned  if  I 
make  out  that  brother  of  yours.  Doesn't  he  live  in  the 
same  house  as  his  wife?  " 

Lady  Tressilvain  sat  listening  to  the  uproar  from 
the  dogs  as  Malcourt  left  the  garden.  But  this  time 

427 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


the  outbreak  was  only  a  noisy  welcome ;  and  Malcourt, 
on  excellent  terms  with  himself,  patted  every  sleek,  wet 
head  thrust  up  for  caresses  and  walked  gaily  on  through 
the  driving  rain. 

The  rain  continued  the  following  day.  Piloted  by 
Malcourt,  the  Tressilvains,  thickly  shod  and  water 
proofed,  tramped  about  with  rod  and  creel  and  returned 
for  luncheon  where  their  blunt  criticisms  on  the  fishing 
aroused  Portlaw's  implacable  resentment.  For  they 
sneered  at  the  trout,  calling  them  "  char,"  patronised 
the  rather  scanty  pheasantry,  commented  on  the  ken 
nels,  stables,  and  gardens  in  a  manner  that  brought  the 
red  into  Porfclaw's  face  and  left  him  silent  while  luncheon 
lasted. 

After  luncheon  Tressilvain  tried  the  billiards,  but 
found  the  game  inferior  to  the  English  game.  So  he 
burrowed  into  a  box  of  cigars,  established  himself  be 
fore  the  fire  with  all  the  newspapers,  deploring  the  fact 
that  the  papers  were  not  worth  reading. 

Lady  Tressilvain  cornered  Shiela  and  badgered  her 
and  stared  at  her  until  she  dared  not  lift  her  hot  face 
or  open  her  lips  lest  the  pent  resentment  escape;  Port- 
law  smoked  a  pipe — a  sure  indication  of  smouldering 
wrath;  Malcourt,  at  a  desk,  blew  clouds  of  smoke  from 
his  cigarette  and  smilingly  continued  writing  to  his 
attorney : 

"  This  is  the  general  idea  for  the  document,  and 
it's  up  to  you  to  fix  it  up  and  make  it  legal,  and  have 
it  ready  for  me  when  I  come  to  town. 

"  1st.  I  want  to  leave  all  my  property  to  a  Miss 
Dorothy  or  Dolly  Wilming;  and  I  want  you  to  sell  off 
everything  after  my  death  and  invest  the  proceeds  for 

428 


A  CONFERENCE 


her  because  it's  all  she'll  have  to  live  on  except  what 
she  gets  by  her  own  endeavours.  This,  in  case  I  sud 
denly  snuff  out. 

"  2d.  I  want  to  leave  my  English  riding-crop, 
spurs,  bridle,  and  saddle  to  a  Miss  Virginia  Suydam. 
Fix  it  legally. 

"  3d.  Here  is  a  list  of  eighteen  ladies.  Each  is 
to  have  one  of  my  eighteen  Chinese  gods. 

"  4th.  To  my  wife  I  leave  the  nineteenth  god.  Mr. 
Hamil  has  it  in  his  possession.  I  have  no  right  to  dis 
pose  of  it,  but  he  will  have  some  day. 

"  5th.  To  John  Garret  Hamil,  3d,  I  leave  my  vol 
ume  of  Jean  Dumont,  the  same  being  an  essay  on 
Friendship. 

"  6th.  To  my  friend,  William  Van  Bueren  Portlaw, 
I  leave  my  dogs,  rods,  and  guns  with  a  recommendation 
that  he  use  them  and  his  legs. 

"  7th.  To  my  sister,  Lady  Tressilvain,  I  leave  my 
book  of  comic  Bridge  rules,  and  to  her  husband  a  volume 
of  Methodist  hymns. 

"  I'll  be  in  town  again,  shortly,  and  expect  you 
to  have  my  will  ready  to  be  signed  and  witnessed.  One 
ought  always  to  be  prepared,  particularly  when  in  ex 
cellent  health. 

1  1  ours  sincerely, 

"  Louis  MALCOUB.T." 

"P.S.  I  enclose  a  check  for  the  Greenlawn  Ceme 
tery  people.  I  wish  you'd  see  that  they  keep  the  hedge 
properly  trimmed  around  my  father's  plot  and  renew  the 
dead  sod  where  needed.  I  noticed  that  one  of  the  trees 
was  also  dead.  Have  them  put  in  another  and  keep  the 
flowers  in  good  shape.  I  don't  want  anything  dead 
around  that  lot. 

"  L.  M." 
429 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


When  he  had  sealed  and  directed  his  letter  he  looked 
around  the  silent  room.  Shiela  was  sewing  by  the  win 
dow.  Portlaw,  back  to  the  fire,  stood  staring  out  at 
the  rain ;  Lady  Tressilvain,  *-i  cigarette  between  her  thin 
lips,  wandered  through  the  work-shop  and  loading-room 
where,  from  hooks  in  the  ceiling,  a  thicket  of  split-cane 
rod-joints  hung,  each  suspended  by  a  single  strong 
thread. 

The  loading-room  was  lined  with  glass-faced  cases 
containing  fowling-pieces,  rifles,  reels,  and  the  inevitable 
cutlery  and  ironmongery  associated  with  utensils  for  the 
murder  of  wild  creatures.  Tressilvain  sat  at  the  loading- 
table  to  which  he  was  screwing  a  delicate  vise  to  hold 
hooks ;  for  Malcourt  had  given  him  a  lesson  in  fly-tying, 
and  he  meant  to  dress  a  dozen  to  try  on  Painted  Creek. 

So  he  sorted  snell  and  hook  and  explored  the  tin 
trunk  for  hackles,  silks,  and  feathers,  up  to  his  bony 
wrists  in  the  fluffy  heap  of  brilliant  plumage,  burrow 
ing,  busy  as  a  burying  beetle  under  a  dead  bird. 

Malcourt  dropped  his  letter  into  the  post-box, 
glanced  uncertainly  in  the  direction  of  his  wife,  but  as 
she  did  not  lift  her  head  from  her  sewing,  turned  with 
a  shrug  and  crossed  the  floor  to  where  Portlaw  stood 
scowling  and  sucking  at  his  empty  pipe. 

"  Look  at  that  horrid  little  brother-in-law  of  mine 
with  his  ferret  eyes  and  fox  face,  fussing  around  those 
feathers — as  though  he  had  just  caught  and  eaten  the 
bird  that  wore  them !  " 

Portlaw  continued  to  scowl. 

"  Suppose  we  take  them  on  at  cards,"  suggested 
Malcourt. 

"No,   thanks." 

"Why  not?" 

"  They've  taken  a  thousand  out  of  me  already." 
430 


A    CONFERENCE 


Malcourt  said  quietly :  "  You've  never  before  given 
such  a  reason  for  discontinuing  card-playing.  What's 
your  real  reason?  " 

Portlaw  was  silent. 

"  Did  you  quit  a  thousand  to  the  bad,  Billy?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did." 

"  Then  why  not  get  it  back?  " 

"  I  don't  care  to  play,"  said  Portlaw  shortly. 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met. 

"  Are  you,  by  any  chance,  afraid  of  our  fox-faced 
guest?  "  asked  Malcourt  suavely. 

"  I  don't  care  to  give  any  reason,  I  tell  you." 

"  That's  serious ;  as  there  could  be  only  one  reason. 
Did  you  think  you  noticed — anything?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  think.  .  .  .  I've  half  a  mind 
to  stop  payment  on  that  check — if  that  enlightens  you 
any." 

"  There's  an  easier  way,"  said  Malcourt  coolly. 
"  You  know  how  it  is  in  spamng?  You  forecast  what 
your  opponent  is  going  to  do  and  you  stop  him  before 
he  does  it." 

"  I'm  not  certain  that  he — did  it,"  muttered  Port- 
law.  "  I  can't  afford  to  make  a  mistake  by  kicking  out 
your  brother-in-law." 

"  Oh,  don't  mind  me—" 

"  I  wouldn't  if  I  were  sure.  ...  I  wish  I  had  that 
thousand  back;  it  drives  me  crazy  to  think  of  losing  it 
— in  that  way " 

"  Oh ;  then  you  feel  reasonably  sure " 

"  No,  confound  it.  ...  The  backs  of  the  aces  were 
slightly  rough — but  I  can  scarcely  believe " 

"  Have  you  a  magnifying  glass  ?  " 

The  pack  has  disappeared.  ...  I  meant  to  try 
that." 

431 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Malcourt  calmly,  "  it 
wouldn't  surprise  me  in  the  slightest  to  learn  that  Tres- 
silvain  is  a  blackguard.  It's  easy  enough  to  get  your 
thousand  back.  Shall  we?  " 

"How?" 

Malcourt  sauntered  over  to  a  card  table,  seated  him 
self,  motioned  Portlaw  to  the  chair  opposite,  and  re 
moved  the  cover  from  a  new  pack. 

Then,  to  Portlaw's  astonishment,  he  began  to  take 
aces  and  court  cards  from  any  part  of  the  pack  at  his 
pleasure;  any  card  that  Portlaw  called  for  was  pro 
duced  unerringly.  Then  Malcourt  dealt  him  unbeliev 
able  hands — all  of  a  colour,  all  of  a  suit,  all  the  cards 
below  the  tens,  all  above;  and  Portlaw,  fascinated, 
watched  the  dark,  deft  fingers  nimbly  dealing,  shuffling, 
until  his  senses  spun  round ;  and  when  Malcourt  finally 
tore  up  all  the  aces,  and  then,  ripping  the  green  baize 
cover  from  the  table,  disclosed  the  four  aces  underneath, 
intact,  Portlaw,  petrified,  only  stared  at  him  out  of  dis 
tended  eyes. 

"  Those  are  nice  tricks,  aren't  they  ?  "  asked  Mal 
court,  smiling. 

''  Y-yes.  Lord !  Louis,  I  never  dreamed  you  could 
do  such  devilish  things  as ' 

"  I  can.  If  I  were  not  always  behind  you  in  my 
score  I'd  scarcely  dare  let  you  know  what  I  might  do 
if  I  chose.  .  .  .  How  far  ahead  is  that  little  mink, 
yonder  ?  " 

"Tressilvain?" 

"  Yes." 

"  He  has  taken  about  a  thousand — wait !  "  Portlaw 
consulted  his  note-book,  made  a  wry  face,  and  gave  Mal 
court  the  exact  total. 

Malcourt  turned  carelessly  in  his  chair. 
432 


A  CONFERENCE 


"  O  Herbert ! "  he  called  across  to  his  brother-in- 
law;  "  don't  you  and  Helen  want  to  take  us  on?  " 

"  Rather !  "  replied  Tressilvain  briskly ;  and  came 
trotting  across  the  room,  his  close-set  black  eyes  moving 
restlessly  from  Malcourt  to  Portlaw. 

"  Come  on,  Helen,"  said  Malcourt,  drawing  up  a 
/  chair  for  her;  and  his  sister  seated  herself  gracefully. 
A  moment  later  the  game  began,  Portlaw  passing  it  over 
to  Malcourt,  who  made  it  no  trumps,  and  laid  out  all 
the  materials  for  international  trouble,  including  a  hun 
dred  aces. 

The  games  were  brutally  short,  savage,  decisive; 
Tressilvain  lost  countenance  after  the  fastest  four  rub 
bers  he  had  ever  played,  and  shot  an  exasperated  glance 
at  his  wife,  who  was  staring  thoughtfully  at  her  brother. 

But  that  young  man  appeared  to  be  in  an  inno 
cently  merry  mood ;  he  gaily  taunted  Herby,  as  he  chose 
to  call  him,  with  loss  of  nerve;  he  tormented  his  sister 
because  she  didn't  seem  to  know  what  Portlaw's  dis 
cards  meant ;  and  no  wonder,  because  he  discarded  from 
an  obscure  system  taught  him  by  Malcourt.  Also,  with 
a  malice  which  Tressilvain  ignored,  he  forced  formali 
ties,  holding  everybody  ruthlessly  to  iron-clad  rule,  tak 
ing  penalties,  enforcing  the  most  rigid  etiquette.  For 
he  was  one  of  those  rare  players  who  knew  the  game  so 
thoroughly  that  while  he,  and  the  man  he  had  taught, 
often  ignored  the  classics  of  adversary  play,  the  slight 
est  relaxing  of  etiquette,  rule,  precept,  or  precedent,  in 
his  opponents,  brought  him  out  with  a  protest  exacting 
the  last  item  of  toll  for  indiscretion. 

Portlaw  was  perhaps  the  sounder  player,  Malcourt 
certainly  the  more  brilliant ;  and  now,  for  the  first  time 
since  the  advent  of  the  Tressilvains,  the  cards  Portlaw 
held  were  good  ones. 

433 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  What  a  nasty  thing  to  do ! "  said  Lady  Tressil- 
vain  sharply,  as  her  brother's  finesse  went  through,  and 
with  it  another  rubber. 

"  It  was  horrid,  wasn't  it,  Helen  ?  I  don't  know 
what's  got  into  you  and  Herby  " ;  and  to  the  latter's 
protest  he  added  pleasantly :  "  You  talk  like  a  bucket  of 
ashes.  Go  on  and  deal !  " 

"  A — what !  "  demanded  Tressilvain  angrily. 

"  It's  an  Americanism,"  observed  his  wife,  survey 
ing  her  cards  with  masked  displeasure  and  making  it 
spades.  "  Louis,  I  never  held  such  hands  in  all  my 
life,"  she  said,  displaying  the  meagre  dummy. 

"  Do  you  good,  Helen.  Mustn't  be  too  proud  and 
haughty.  No,  no!  Good  for  you  and  Herby " 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  call  him  Herby,"  snapped 
his  sister. 

"Not  respectful?"  inquired  Malcourt,  lifting  his 
eyebrows.  "Well,  I'll  call  him  anything  you  like, 
Helen ;  I  don't  care.  But  make  it  something  I  can  say 
when  ladies  are  present " 

Tressilvain's  mink-like  muzzle  turned  white  with 
rage.  He  didn't  like  to  be  flouted,  he  didn't  like  his 
cards,  he  didn't  like  to  lose  money.  And  he  had  already 
lost  a  lot  between  luncheon  and  the  impending  dinner. 

"  Why  the  devil  I  continue  to  hold  all  these  three- 
card  suits  I  don't  know,"  he  said  savagely.  "  Isn't 
there  another  pack  in  the  house?  " 

"  There  was"  said  Malcourt ;  and  ironically  con 
doled  with  him  as  Portlaw  accomplished  a  little  slam  in 
hearts. 

Then  Tressilvain  dealt;  and  Malcourt's  eyes  never 
left  his  brother-in-law's  hands  as  they  distributed  the 
cards  with  nervous  rapidity. 

"  Misdeal,"  he  said  quietly. 
434 


A  CONFERENCE 


"  What  ?  "  demanded  his  sister  in  sharp  protest. 

"  It's  a  misdeal,"  repeated  Malcourt,  smiling  at 
her ;  and,  as  Tressilvain,  half  the  pack  suspended,  gazed 
blankly  at  him,  Malcourt  turned  and  looked  him 
squarely  in  the  eye.  The  other  reddened. 

"  Too  bad,"  said  Malcourt,  with  careless  good- 
humour,  "  but  one  has  to  be  so  careful  in  dealing  the 
top  card,  Herby.  You  stumble  over  your  own  fingers ; 
they're  too  long ;  or  perhaps  it's  that  ring  of  yours." 

A  curious,  almost  ghastly  glance  passed  involun 
tarily  between  the  Tressilvains ;  Portlaw,  who  was  busy 
lighting  a  cigar,  did  not  notice  it,  but  Malcourt  laughed 
lightly  and  ran  over  the  score,  adding  it  up  with  a 
nimble  accuracy  that  seemed  to  stun  his  relatives. 

"  Why,  look  what's  here !  "  he  exclaimed,  genially 
displaying  a  total  that,  added,  balanced  all  Portlaw's 
gains  and  losses  to  date.  "  Why,  isn't  that  curious, 
Helen!  Right  off  the  bat  like  that !— cricket-bat,"  he 
explained  affably  to  Tressilvain,  who,  as  dinner  was 
imminent,  had  begun  fumbling  for  his  check-book. 

At  Malcourt's  suave  suggestion,  however,  instead 
of  drawing  a  new  check  he  returned  Portlaw's  check. 
Malcourt  took  it,  tore  it  carefully  in  two  equal  parts. 

"  Half  for  you,  William,  half  for  me,"  he  said  gaily. 
"  My — my !  What  strange  things  do  happen  in  cards 
— and  in  the  British  Isles !  " 

The  dull  flush  deepened  on  Tressilvain's  averted 
face,  but  Lady  Tressilvain,  unusually  pale,  watched  her 
brother  persistently  during  the  general  conversation 
that  preceded  dressing  for  dinner. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

SEALED    INSTRUCTIONS 

AFTER  the  guests  had  gone  away  to  dress  Port- 
law  looked  inquiringly  at  Malcourt  and  said :  "  That 
misdeal  may  have  been  a  slip.  I  begin  to  believe  I  was 
mistaken  after  all.  What  do  you  think,  Louis  ?  " 

Malcourt's  eyes  wandered  toward  his  wife  who  still 
bent  low  over  her  sewing.  "  I  don't  think,"  he  said 
absently,  and  sauntered  over  to  Shiela,  saying: 

"  It's  rather  dull  for  you,  isn't  it?  " 

She  made  no  reply  until  Portlaw  had  gone  up 
stairs  ;  then  looking  around  at  him : 

"  Is  there  any  necessity  for  me  to  sit  here  while  you 
play  cards  this  evening  ?  " 

"  No,  if  it  doesn't  amuse  you." 

Amuse  her!  She  rested  her  elbow  on  the  window 
ledge,  and,  chin  on  hand,  stared  out  into  the  gray  world 
of  rain — the  world  that  had  been  so  terribly  altered 
for  her  for  ever.  In  the  room  shadows  were  gathering ; 
the  dull  light  faded.  Outside  it  rained  over  land  and 
water,  over  the  encircling  forest  which  walled  in  this 
stretch  of  spectral  world  where  the  monotony  of  her 
days  was  spent. 

To  the  sadness  of  it  she  was  slowly  becoming  in 
ured;  but  the  strangeness  of  her  life  she  could  not  yet 
comprehend — its  meaningless  days  and  nights,  its  drag 
ging  hours — and  the  strange  people  around  her  im- 

436 


SEALED   INSTRUCTIONS 

mersed  in  their  sordid  pleasures — this  woman — her  hus 
band's  sister,  thin-lipped,  hard-featured,  drinking, 
smoking,  gambling,  shrill  in  disputes,  merciless  of 
speech,  venomously  curious  concerning  all  that  she  held 
locked  in  the  privacy  of  her  wretchedness. 

"  Shiela,"  he  said,  "  why  don't  you  pay  your  family 
a  visit?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You're  afraid  they  might  suspect  that  you  are  not 
particularly  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes.  ...  It  was  wrong  to  have  Gray  and  Cecile 
here.  It  was  fortunate  you  were  away.  But  they  saw 
the  Tressilvains." 

"What  did  they  think  of  'em?"  inquired  Mai- 
court. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  they  would  think?  " 

"  Quite  right.  Well,  don't  worry.  Hold  out  a  little 
longer.  This  is  a  ghastly  sort  of  pantomime  for  you, 
but  there's  always  a  grand  transformation  scene  at  the 
end.  Who  knows  how  soon  the  curtain  will  rise  on  fairy 
land  and  the  happy  lovers  and  all  that  bright  and  spar 
kling  business?  Children  demand  it — must  have  it.  .  .  . 
'And  you  are  very  young  yet." 

He  laughed,  seeing  her  perplexed  expression. 

"  You  don't  know  what  I  mean,  do  you  ?  Listen, 
Shiela;  stay  here  to  dinner,  if  you  can  stand  my  rela 
tives.  We  won't  play  cards.  You'll  really  find  it  amus 
ing  I  think." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  stay  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.     I  want  you  to  see  something." 

A  few  moments  afterward  she  took  her  umbrella  and 
waterproof  and  went  away  to  dress,  returning  to  a 
dinner-table  remarkable  for  the  silence  of  the  diners. 
Something,  too,  had  gone  wrong  with  the  electric  plant, 

437 


THE   FIRING  'LINE 


and  after  dinner  candles  were  lighted  in  the  living-room. 
Outside  it  rained  heavily. 

Malcourt  sat  beside  his  wife,  smoking,  and,  unaided, 
sustaining  what  conversation  there  was ;  and  after  a 
while  he  rose,  dragged  a  heavy,  solid  wooden  table  to 
the  middle  of  the  room,  placed  five  chairs  around  it, 
and  smilingly  invited  Shiela,  the  Tressilvains,  and  Port- 
law  to  join  him. 

"  A  seance  in  table-tipping  ? "  asked  his  sister 
coldly.  "  Really,  Louis,  I  think  we  are  rather  past 
such  things." 

"  I  never  saw  a  bally  table  tip,"  observed  Tres- 
silvain.  "  How  do  you  do  it,  Louis  ?  " 

"  I  don't ;  it  tips.  Come,  Shiela,  if  you  don't  mind. 
Come  on,  Billy." 

Tressilvain  seated  himself  and  glanced  furtively 
about  him. 

"  I  dare  say  you're  all  in  this  game,"  he  said,  with 
a  rattling  laugh. 

"  It's  no  game.  If  the  table  tips  it  tips,  and  our 
combined  weight  can't  hold  it  down,"  said  Malcourt. 
"  If  it  won't  tip  it  won't,  and  I'll  bet  you  a  hundred 
dollars  that  you  can't  tip  it,  Herby." 

Tressilvain,  pressing  his  hands  hard  on  the  polished 
edge,  tried  to  move  the  table ;  then  he  stood  up  and 
tried.  It  was  too  heavy  and  solid,  and  he  could  do  noth 
ing  except  by  actually  lifting  it  or  by  seizing  it  in 
both  hands  and  dragging  it  about. 

One  by  one,  reluctantly,  the  others  took  seats 
around  the  table  and,  as  instructed  by  Malcourt, 
rested  the  points  of  their  fingers  on  the  dully  polished 
surface. 

"  Does  it  really  ever  move  ?  "  asked  Shiela  of  Mal 
court, 

438 


SEALED   INSTRUCTIONS 

"  It  sometimes  does." 

"What's  the  explanation?"  demanded  Portlaw,  in 
credulously  ;  "  spirits  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  anybody  here  would  credit  such  an 
explanation,"  said  Malcourt.  "  The  table  moves  or  it 
doesn't.  If  it  does  you'll  see  it.  I'll  leave  the  explana 
tion  to  you,  William." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  it  move?  "  asked  Shiela,  turn 
ing  again  to  Malcourt. 

"  Yes  ;  so  has  my  sister.  It's  not  a  trick."  Lady 
Tressilvain  looked  bored,  but  answered  Shiela's  in 
quiry  : 

"  I've  seen  it  often.  Louis  and  I  and  my  father  used 
to  do  it.  I  don't  know  how  it's  done,  and  nobody  else 
does.  Personally  I  think  it's  rather  a  stupid  way  to 
spend  an  evening  -  " 

"  But,"  interrupted  Portlaw,  "  there'll  be  nothing 
stupid  about  it  if  the  table  begins  to  tip  up  here  under 
our  very  fingers.  I'll  bet  you,  Louis,  that  it  doesn't. 
Do  you  care  to  bet  ?  " 

"  Shouldn't  the  lights  be  put  out?  "  asked  Tressil 


Malcourt  said  it  was  not  necessary,  and  cautioned 
everybody  to  sit  absolutely  clear  of  the  table,  and  to 
rest  only  the  tips  of  the  fingers  very  lightly  on  the 
surface. 

"  Can  we  speak?  "  grinned  Portlaw. 

"  Oh,  yes,  if  you  like."  A  bright  colour  glowed  in 
Malcourt's  face  ;  he  looked  down  dreamily  at  the  top  of 
the  table  where  his  hands  touched.  A  sudden  quiet  fell 
over  the  company. 

Shiela,  sitting  with  her  white  fingers  lightly  brush 
ing  the  smooth  mahogany,  bent  her  head,  mind  wan 
dering;  and  her  thoughts  were  very  far  away  when, 
29  439 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


under  her  sensitive  touch,  a  curious  quiver  seemed  to 
run  through  the  very  grain  of  the  wood. 

"  What's  that !  "  exclaimed  Portlaw. 

Deep  in  the  wood,  wave  after  wave  of  motion 
seemed  to  spread  until  the  fibres  emitted  a  faint  splinter 
ing  sound.  Then,  suddenly,  the  heavy  table  rose  slowly, 
the  end  on  which  Shiela's  hands  rested  sinking;  and 
fell  back  with  a  solid  shock. 

"  That's  —  rather — odd !  "  muttered  Tressilvain. 
Portlaw's  distended  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  table, 
which  was  now  heaving  uneasily  like  a  boat  at  anchor, 
creaking,  cracking,  rocking  under  their  finger-tips. 
Tressilvain  rose  from  his  chair  and  tried  to  see,  but 
as  everybody  was  clear  of  the  table,  and  their  fingers 
barely  touched  the  top,  he  could  discover  no  visible  rea 
son  for  what  was  occurring  so  violently  under  his  very 
pointed  nose. 

"  It's  like  a  bally  earthquake,"  he  said  in  amaze 
ment.  "  God  bless  my  soul !  the  thing  is  walking  off 
with  us !  " 

Everybody  had  risen  from  necessity;  chairs  were 
pushed  back,  skirts  drawn  aside  as  the  heavy  table,  stag 
gering,  lurching,  moved  out  across  the  floor ;  and  they 
all  followed,  striving  to  keep  their  finger-tips  on  the 
top. 

Portlaw  was  speechless;  Shiela  pale,  tremulous,  be 
wildered;  Tressilvain's  beady  eyes  shone  like  the  eyes 
of  a  surprised  rat ;  but  his  wife  and  Malcourt  took  it 
calmly. 

"  The  game  is,"  said  Malcourt,  "  to  ask  whether 
there  is  a  spirit  present,  and  then  recite  the  alphabet. 
Shall  I  ?  ...  It  isn't  frightening  you,  is  it,  Shiela  ?  " 

. "  No.   .  .  .  But  I  don't  understand  why  it  moves." 

"  Neither  does  anybody.  But  you  see  it,  feel  it. 
440 


SEALED   INSTRUCTIONS 

Nor  can  anybody  explain  why  an  absurd  question  and 
reciting  the  alphabet  sometimes  results  in  a  coherent 
message.  Shall  I  try  it,  Helen  ?  " 

His  sister  nodded  indifferently. 

There  was  a  silence,  then  Malcourt,  still  standing, 
said  quietly : 

"  Is  there  a  message?  " 

From  the  deep,  woody  centre  of  the  table  three  loud 
knocks  sounded — almost  ripped  out,  and  the  table  quiv 
ered  in  every  fibre. 

"  Is  there  a  message  for  anybody  present  ?  " 

Three  raps  followed  in  a  startling  volley. 

"  Get  the  chairs,"  motioned  Malcourt ;  and  when  all 
were  seated  clear  of  the  table  but  touching  lightly  the 
surface  with  their  finger-tips: 

"A  B  C  D  E  F" — began  Malcourt,  slowly  re 
citing  the  alphabet;  and,  as  the  raps  rang  out,  sig 
nalling  some  letter,  he  began  again  in  a  monotonous 
voice  :  "  A  B  C  D  E  F  G  " — pausing  as  soon  as  the 
raps  arrested  him  at  a  certain  letter,  only  to  begin 
again. 

"  Get  a  pad  and  pencil,"  whispered  Lady  Tressilvain 
to  Shiela. 

So  Shiela  left  the  table,  found  a  pad  and  pencil,  and 
seated  herself  near  a  candle  by  the  window ;  and  as  each 
letter  was  rapped  out  by  the  table,  she  put  it  down  in 
order. 

The  recitation  seemed  endless;  Malcourt's  voice 
grew  hoarse  with  the  repetition ;  letter  after  letter  was 
added  to  the  apparently  meaningless  sequence  on 
Shiela's  pad. 

"  Is  there  any  sense  in  it  so  far?  "  asked  Lady  Tres 
silvain. 

"  I  cannot  find  any,"  said  Shiela,  striving  with  her 
441 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


pencil  point  to  divide  the  string  of  letters  into  intelli 
gible  words. 

And  still  Malcourt's  monotonous  voice  droned  on, 
and  still  the  raps  sounded  from  the  table.  Portlaw 
hung  over  it  as  though  hypnotized;  Tressilvain  had 
fallen  to  moistening  his  lips  with  the  tip  of  his  tongue, 
stealthy  eyes  always  roaming  about  the  candle-lit  room 
as  though  searching  for  something  uncanny  lurking  in 
the  shadows. 

Shiela  shivered,  wide-eyed,  as  she  sat  watching  the 
table  which  was  now  snapping  and  cracking  and  heav 
ing  under  her  gaze.  A  slow  fear  of  the  thing  crept 
over  her — of  this  senseless,  lifeless  mass  of  wood,  fash 
ioned  by  human  hands.  The  people  around  it,  the  room, 
the  house  were  becoming  horrible  to  her;  she  loathed 
them  and  what  they  were  doing. 

A  ripping  crash  brought  her  to  her  feet ;  everybody 
sprang  up.  Under  their  hands  the  table  was  shudder 
ing  convulsively.  Suddenly  it  split  open  as  though 
rent  by  a  bolt,  and  fell  like  a  live  thing  in  agony,  a  mass 
of  twisted  fibres  protruding  like  viscera  from  its  shat 
tered  core. 

Stunned  silence;  and  Malcourt  turned  to  his  sister 
and  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  but  she  only  shook  her  head, 
shivering,  and  starec!  at  the  wreck  of  wood  as  though 
revolted. 

"  W-what  happened  ?  "  faltered  Portlaw,  bewildered. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Malcourt  unsteadily. 

"  Don't  know !  Look  at  that  table !  Why,  man, 
it's— it's  dying  I" 

Tressilvain  stood  as  though  stupefied.  Malcourt 
walked  slowly  over  to  where  Shiela  stood. 

She  shrank  involuntarily  away  from  him  as  he  bent 
to  pick  up  the  pad  which  had  fallen  from  her  hands. 


SEALED   INSTRUCTIONS 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  frightened  about,"  he  said, 
forcing  a  smile;  and,  holding  the  pad  under  the  light, 
scanned  it  attentively.  His  sister  came  over  to  him, 
asking  if  the  letters  made  any  sense. 

He  shook  his  head. 

They  studied  it  together,  Shiela's  fascinated  gaze 
riveted  on  them  both.  And  she  saw  Lady  Tressilvain's 
big  eyes  widen  as  she  laid  her  pencil  on  a  sequence; 
saw  Malcourt's  quick  nod  of  surprised  comprehension 
when  she  checked  off  a  word,  then  another,  another, 
another ;  and  suddenly  her  face  turned  white  to  the  lips, 
and  she  caught  at  her  brother's  arm,  terrified. 

"Will  }rou  keep  quiet?"  he  whispered  fiercely, 
snatching  the  sheet  from  the  pad  and  crumpling  it  into 
his  palm. 

Sister  and  brother  faced  each  other;  in  his  eyes 
leaped  a  flame  infernal  which  seemed  to  hold  her 
paralyzed  for  a  moment ;  then,  with  a  gesture,  she 
swept  him  aside,  and  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands, 
sank  into  a  chair. 

"  What  a  fool  you  are !  "  he  said  furiously,  bending 
down  beside  her.  "  It's  in  us  both ;  you'll  do  it,  too, 
when  you  are  ready — if  you  have  any  sporting  blood 
in  you !  " 

And,  straightening  up  impatiently,  his  eyes  fell  on 
Shiela,  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled  re 
signedly. 

"  It's  nothing.  My  sister's  nerves  are  a  bit  upset. 
.  .  .  After  all,  this  parlour  magic  is  a  stupid  mistake, 
because  there's  always  somebody  who  takes  it  seriously, 
It's  only  humbug,  anyway;  you  know  that,  don't  you, 
Shiela?" 

He  untwisted  the  paper  in  his  hand  and  held  it  in 
the  candle  flame  until  it  burned  to  cinders. 

443 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  What  was  there  on  that  paper  ?  "  asked  Shiela, 
managing  to  control  her  voice. 

"  Wh}r,  merely  a  suggestion  that  I  travel,"  he  said 
coolly.  "  I  can't  see  why  my  sister  should  make  a  fool 
of  herself  over  the  idea  of  my  going  on  a  journey.  I've 
meant  to,  for  years — to  rest  myself.  I've  told  you  that 
often,  haven't  I,  Shiela?  " 

She  nodded  slowly,  but  her  eyes  reverted  to  the 
woman  crouching  in  the  chair,  face  buried  in  her  bril 
liantly  jewelled  hands.  Portlaw  and  Tressilvain  were 
also  staring  at  her. 

"  You'd  better  go  to  bed,  Helen,"  said  Malcourt 
coolly ;  and  turned  on  his  heel,  lighting  a  cigarette. 

A  little  later  the  Tressilvains  and  Shiela  started 
across  the  lawn  to  their  own  apartments,  and  Malcourt 
went  with  them  to  hold  an  umbrella  over  his  wife. 

In  the  lower  hall  they  separated  with  scarcely  a 
word,  but  Malcourt  detained  his  brother-in-law  by  a 
significant  touch  on  the  arm,  and  drew  him  into  th« 
library. 

"  So  you're  leaving  to-morrow?  "  he  asked. 

"What?"  said  Tressilvain. 

"  I  say  that  I  understand  you  and  Helen  are  leaving 
us  to-morrow." 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  leaving,"  said  Tressilvain. 

"  Think  again,"  suggested  Malcourt. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Malcourt  walked  up  very  close  and  looked  him 
in  the  face. 

"Must  I  explain?"  he  asked  contemptuously.  "I 
will  if  you  like — you  clumsy  card-slipping,  ace-prick 
ing  blackguard!  .  .  .  The  station-wagon  will  be  ready 
at  seven.  See  that  you  arc,  too.  Now  go  and  tell  my 
sister.  It  may  reconcile  her  to  various  ideas  of  mine." 

444 


SEALED   INSTRUCTIONS 

And  he  turned  and,  walking  to  a  leather-covered 
chair  drawn  up  beside  the  library  table,  seated  himself 
and  opened  a  heavy  book. 

Tressilvain  stood  absolutely  still,  his  close-set  eyes* 
fairly  starting  from  his  face,  in  which  not  a  vestige  of 
colour  now  remained;  and  when  at  length  he  left  the 
room  he  left  so  noiselessly  that  Malcourt  did  not  hear 
him.  However,  Malcourt  happened  to  be  very  intent 
upon  his  own  train  of  thought,  so  absorbed,  in  fact,  that 
it  was  a  long  while  before  he  looked  up  and  around,  as 
though  somebody  had  suddenly  spoken  his  name. 

But  it  was  only  the  voice  which  had  sounded  so 
often  and  familiarly  in  his  ears;  and  he  smiled  and  in 
clined  his  graceful  head  to  listen,  folding  his  hands 
under  his  chin. 

He  seemed  very  young  and  boyish,  there,  leaning 
both  elbows  on  the  library  table,  head  bent  expectantly 
as  he  listened,  or  lifted  when  he,  in  turn,  spoke  aloud. 
And  sometimes  he  spoke  gravely,  argumentatively,  some 
times  almost  flippantly,  and  once  or  twice  his  laugh 
rang  out  through  the  empty  room. 

In  the  forest  a  heavy  wind  had  risen;  somewhere 
outside  a  door  or  shutter  banged  persistently.  He  did 
not  hear  it,  but  Shiela,  sleepless  in  her  room  above,  laid 
down  Hamil's  book ;  then,  thinking  it  might  be  the  outer 
door  left  carelessly  unlocked,  descended  the  stairs  with 
lighted  candle.  Passing  the  library  and  hearing  voices 
she  halted,  astonished  to  see  her  husband  there  alone; 
and  as  she  stood,  perplexed  and  disturbed,  he  spoke  as 
though  answering  a  question.  But  there  was  no  one 
there  who  could  have  asked  it ;  the  room  was  empty  save 
for  that  solitary  figure.  Something  in  his  voice  terrified 
her — in  the  uncanny  monologue  which  meant  nothing 
to  her — in  his  curiously  altered  laugh — in  his  intent 

445 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


listening  attitude.  It  was  not  the  first  time  she  had 
seen  him  this  way. 

"Louis!"  she  exclaimed;  "what  are  you  doing?" 

He  turned  dreamily  toward  her,  rose  as  in  a  trance. 

"  Oh,  is  it  you  ?  .   .   .   Come  in  here." 

"  I  cannot ;  I  am  tired." 

"  So  am  I,  Shiela — tired  to  death.  What  time 
is  it?" 

"  After  ten,  I  think — if  that  clock  is  right." 

She  entered,  reluctant,  uncertain,  peering  up  at  the 
clock ;  then : 

"  I  thought  the  front  door  had  been  left  open  and 
came  down  to  lock  it.  What  are  you  doing  here  at  this 
hour?  I — I  thought  I  heard  you  talking." 

"  I  was  talking  to  my  father." 

"  What !  "  she  said,  startled. 

"  Pretending  to,"  he  added  wearily ;  "  sit  down." 

"  Do  you  wish  me " 

"  Yes ;  sit  down." 

"  I — "  She  looked  fearfully  at  him,  hesitated,  and 
slowly  seated  herself  on  the  arm  of  a  lounge.  "  W-what 
is  it  you — want,  Louis  ?  "  she  faltered,  every  nerve  on 
edge. 

"  Nothing  much ;  a  kindly  word  or  two." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  Have  I  ever  been  unkind? 
I — I  am  too  unhappy  to  be  unkind  to  anybody."  Sud 
denly  her  eyes  filled. 

"  Don't  do  that,"  he  said ;  "  you  are  always  civil  to 
me — never  unkind.  By  the  way,  my  relatives  leave  to 
morrow.  That  will  comfort  you,  won't  it?  " 

She  said  nothing. 

He  leaned  heavily  on  the  table,  dark  face  framed 
in  both  hands: 

"  Shiela,  when  a  man  is  really  tired,  don't  you  think 
446 


SEALED   INSTRUCTIONS 

•  ><*"»  :nmmm~    uiimani      ummmu  mm  ummmimmii  mmamammm  \i«mmfmmmmmm**m 

it  ;easonable  for  him  to  take  a  rest — and  give  others 
one?" 

"  I  don't  understand/' 

"  A  rather  protracted  rest  is  good  for  tired  people, 
isn't  it?  » 

"Yes,  if n 

"  In  fact,"  with  a  whimsical  smile,  "  .\  sort  of  end 
lessly  eternal  rest  ought  to  cure  anybody.  Don't  you 
think  so?" 

She  stared  at  him. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  remember  that  my  father,  need 
ing  a  good  long  rest,  took  a  sudden  vacation  to  enjoy 
it?  " 

"  I — I — don't  know  what  you  mean !  " — tremu 
lously. 

"  You  remember  how  he  started  on  that  restful  va 
cation  which  he  is  still  enjoying?  " 

A  shudder  ran  over  her.  She  strove  to  speak,  but 
her  voice  died  in  her  throat. 

"  My  father,"  he  said  dreamily,  "  seems  to  want  me 
to  join  him  during  his  vacation " 

"  Louis !  " 

"  What  are  you  frightened  about?  It's  as  good  a 
vacation  as  any  other — only  one  takes  no  luggage  and 
pays  no  hotel  bills.  .  .  .  Haven't  you  any  sense  of  hu 
mour  left  in  you,  Shiela?  I'm  not  serious." 

She  said,  trembling,  and  very  white:  "  I  thought  you 
meant  it."  Then  she  rose  with  a  shiver,  turned,  and 
mounted  the  stairs  to  her  room  again.  But  in  the  still 
ness  of  the  place  something  was  already  at  work  on 
her — fear — a  slow  dawning  alarm  at  the  silence,  the 
loneliness,  the  forests,  the  rain — a  growing  horror  of 
the  place,  of  the  people  in  it,  of  this  man  the  world 
called  her  husband,  of  his  listening  silences,  his  solitary 

447 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


laughter,  his  words  spoken  to  something  unseen  in 
empty  rooms,  his  awful  humour. 

Her  very  knees  were  shaking  under  her  now;  she 
stared  around  her  like  a  trapped  thing,  desperate,  feel 
ing  that  self-control  was  going  in  sudden,  ungovernable 
panic. 

Scarcely  knowing  what  she  was  about  she  crept  to 
the  telephone  and,  leaning  heavily  against  the  wall, 
placed  the  receiver  to  her  ear. 

For  a  long  while  she  waited,  dreading  lest  the  opera 
tor  had  gone.  Then  a  far  voice  hailed  her;  she  gave 
the  name;  waited  interminable  minutes  until  a  servant's 
sleepy  voice  requested  her  to  hold  the  wire.  And,  at 
last: 

"Is  it  you?" 

"  Garry,  could  you  come  here  to-night  ?  " 

"Danger?  No,  I  am  in  no  danger;  I  am  just 
frightened." 

"  I  don't  know  what  is  frightening  me." 

"  No,  not  ill.  It's  only  that  I  am  so  horribly  alone 
liere  in  the  rain.  I — I  cannot  seem  to  endure  it."  She 
was  speaking  almost  incoherently,  now,  scarcely  con 
scious  of  what  she  was  saying.  "  There's  a  man  down 
stairs  who  talks  in  empty  rooms  and  listens  to  things 
I  cannot  hear — listens  every  day,  I  tell  you ;  I've  seen 
him  often,  often — I  mean  Louis  Malcourt !  And  I  can 
not  endure  it — the  table  that  moves,  and  the —  O 
Garry !  Take  me  away  with  you.  I  cannot  stand  it 
any  longer ! " 

448 


SEALED   INSTRUCTIONS 

"Will  you  come?" 

.  .  «  •  • 

"To-night,  Garry?" 

"  How   long  will  you  be?     I   simply   cannot  stay 
alone  in  this  house  until  you  come.     I'll  go  down  and 

saddle  my  mare " 

•  «  •  •  • 

"What?" 

"  Oh,  yes — yes !    I  know  what  I'm  doing " 

"  Yes,  I  do  remember,  but — why  won't  you  take  me 
away  from " 

"  I  know  it —    Oh,  I  know  it !    I  am  half-crazed,  I 
think " 


Yes- 


"  I  do  care  for  them  still !    But " 

"O  Garry!  Garry!  I  will  be  true  to  them!  I 
will  do  anything  you  wish,  only  come !  Come !  Come !  '* 

"  You  promise?  " 
"At  once?" 

She  hung  up  the  receiver,  turned,  and  flung  open  tlse 
window. 

Over  the  wet  woods  a  rain-washed  moon  glittered^, 
the  long  storm  had  passed. 

An  hour  later,  as  she  kneeled  by  the  open  window^, 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


her  chin  on  her  arms,  watching  for  him,  out  of  the 
shadow  and  into  the  full  moonlight  galloped  a  rider 
who  drew  bridle  on  the  distant  lawn,  waving  her  a  gay 
gesture  of  reassurance. 

It  was  too  far  for  her  to  call;  she  dared  not  de 
scend  fearing  the  dogs  might  wake  the  house. 

And  in  answer  to  his  confident  salute,  she  lighted  a 
candle,  and,  against  the  darkness,  drew  the  fiery  outline 
of  a  heart ;  then  extinguishing  the  light,  she  sank  back 
in  her  big  chair,  watching  him  as  he  settled  in  his  stir 
rups  for  the  night-long  vigil  that  she  meant  to  share 
with  him  till  dawn. 

The  whole  night  long  once  more  together!  She 
thrilled  at  the  thought  of  it — at  the  memory  of  that 
other  night  and  dawn  under  the  Southern  planets  where 
a  ghostly  ocean  thundered  at  their  feet — where  her 
awakened  heart  quickened  with  the  fear  of  him — and 
all  her  body  trembled  with  the  blessed  fear  of  him,  and 
every  breath  was  delicious  with  terror  of  the  man  who 
had  come  this  night  to  guard  her. 

Partly  undressed,  head  cradled  in  her  tumbled  hair, 
she  lay  there  in  the  darkness  watching  him — her  pala 
din  on  guard  beneath  the  argent  splendour  of  the  moon. 
Under  the  loosened  silken  vest  her  heart  was  racing; 
under  the  unbound  hair  her  cheeks  were  burning.  The 
soft  lake  breeze  rippled  the  woodbine  leaves  along  the 
Fill,  stirring  the  lace  and  ribbon  on  her  breast. 

Hour  after  hour  she  lay  there,  watching  him  through 
the  dreamy  lustre  of  the  moon,  all  the  mystery  of  her 
love  for  him  tremulous  within  her.  Once,  on  the  edge 
of  sleep,  yet  still  awake,  she  stretched  her  arms  toward 
him  in  the  darkness,  unconsciously  as  she  did  in  dreams. 

Slowly  the  unreality  of  it  all  was  enveloping  her, 
possessed  her  as  her  lids  grew  heavy.  In  the  dim  silvery 

450 


SEALED   INSTRUCTIONS 

light  she  could  scarcely  see  him  now :  a  frail  mist  belted 
horse  and  rider,  stretching  fairy  barriers  across  the 
lawn.  Suddenly,  within  her,  clear,  distinct,  a  voice  be 
gan  calling  to  him  imperiously ;  but  her  lips  never 
moved.  Yet  she  knew  he  would  hear;  surely  he 
heard !  Surely,  surely ! — for  was  he  not  already  drift 
ing  toward  her  through  the  moonlight,  nearer,  here 
under  the  palms  and  orange-trees — here  at  her  feet, 
holding  her  close,  safe,  strong,  till,  faint  with  the  hap 
piness  of  dreams  come  true,  she  slept,  circled  by  his 
splendid  arms. 

And,  while  she  lay  there,  lips  scarce  parted,  sleep 
ing  quietly  as  a  tired  child,  he  sat  his  mud-splashed  sad 
dle,  motionless  under  the  moon,  eyes  never  leaving  her 
window  for  an  instant,  till  at  last  the  far  dawn  broke  and 
the  ghostly  shadows  fled  away. 

Then,  in  the  pallid  light,  he  slowly  gathered  bridle 
and  rode  ba%,k  into  the  Southern  forest,  head  heavy  on 
his  breast. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

MALCOTJRT    LISTENS 

MALCOUET  was  up  and  ready  before  seven  when  his 
•sister  came  to  his  door,  dressed  in  her  pretty  blue  travel 
ling  gown,  hatted,  veiled,  gloved  to  perfection ;  but  there 
was  a  bloom  on  cheek  and  mouth  which  mocked  at  the 
wearied  eyes — a  lassitude  in  every  step  as  she  slowly 
Centered  and  seated  herself. 

For  a  moment  neither  spoke;  her  brother  was 
looking  at  her  narrowly;  and  after  a  while  she  raised 
her  veil,  turning  her  face  to  the  merciless  morning 
light. 

"  Paint,"  she  said ;  "  and  I'm  little  older  than  you." 

"  You  will  be  younger  than  I  am,  soon." 

She  paled  a  trifle  under  the  red. 

"  Are  you  losing  your  reason,  Louis?  " 

"  No,  but  I've  contrived  to  lose  everything  else.  It 
was  a  losing  game  from  the  beginning — for  both  of  us." 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  coward  enough  to  drop  your 
cards  and  quit  the  game?  " 

"  Call  it  that.  But  the  cards  are  marked  and  the 
game  crooked — as  crooked  as  Herby's."  He  began 
to  laugh.  "  The  world's  dice  are  loaded ;  I've  got 
enough." 

"  Yet  you  beat  Bertie  in  spite  of " 

"  For  Portlaw's  sake.  I  wouldn't  fight  with  marked 
cards  for  my  own  sake.  Faugh!  the  world  plays  a 

452 


MALCOURT   LISTENS 


game  too  rotten  to  suit  me.  I'll  drop  my  hand  and — 
take  a  stroll  for  a  little  fresh  air — out  yonder — "  He 
waved  his  arm  toward  the  rising  sun.  "  Just  a  step  into 
the  fresh  air,  Helen." 

"  Are  you  not  afraid?  "  She  managed  to  form  the 
words  with  stiffened  lips. 

"Afraid?  "  He  stared  at  her.  "  No;  neither  are 
you.  You'll  do  it,  too,  some  day.  If  you  don't  want 
to  now,  you  will  later ;  if  you  have  any  doubts  left  they 
won't  last.  We  have  no  choice ;  it's  in  us.  We  don't 
belong  here,  Helen;  we're  different.  We  didn't  know 
until  we'd  tried  to  live  like  other  people,  and  everything 
went  wrong."  A  glint  of  humour  came  into  his  eyes. 
"  I've  made  up  my  mind  that  we're  extra-terrestrial — 
something  external  and  foreign  to  this  particular  star. 
I  think  it's  time  to  ask  for  a  transfer  and  take  the 
star  ahead." 

Not  a  muscle  moved  in  her  expressionless  face;  he 
shrugged  and  drew  out  his  watch. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Helen " 

"Is  it  time  to  go?" 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  Why  do  you  stick  to  that  little  cockney 
pup?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You  ruined  a  decent  man  to  pick  him  out  of  the 
gutter.  Why  don't  you  drop  him  back  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Do  you — ah — care  for  him?  " 

"  No." 

"  Then  why " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Malcourt,  rising ;  "  you're  in 
the  wrong  planet,  too.  And  the  sooner  you  realise  it 
the  sooner  we'll  meet  again.  Good-bye." 

453 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


She  turned  horribly  pale,  stammering  something 
about  his  coming  with  her,  resisting  a  little  as  he  drew 
her  out,  down  the  stairs,  and  aided  her  to  enter  the 
depot-wagon.  There  he  kissed  her ;  and  she  caught  him 
around  the  neck,  holding  him  convulsively. 

"  Nonsense,"  he  whispered.  "  I've  talked  it  all  over 
with  father;  he  and  I'll  talk  it  over  some  day  with  you. 
Then  you'll  understand."  And  backing  away  he  called 
to  the  coachman :  "  Drive  on !  "  ignoring  his  brother- 
in-law,  who  sat  huddled  in  a  corner,  glassy  eyes  focused 
on  him. 

Portlaw  almost  capered  with  surprise  and  relief  when 
at  breakfast  he  learned  that  the  Tressilvains  had  de 
parted. 

"  Oh,  everything  is  coming  everybody's  way,"  said 
Malcourt  gaily — "  like  the  last  chapter  of  a  bally 
novel — the  old-fashioned  kind,  Billy,  where  Nemesis 
gets  busy  with  a  gun  and  kind  Providence  hitches  'em 
up  in  ever-after  blocks  of  two.  It  takes  a  rotten  nov 
elist  to  use  a  gun  on  his  villains !  It's  never  done  in 
decent  literature — never  done  anywhere  except  in  real 
life." 

He  swallowed  his  coffee  and,  lighting  a  cigarette, 
tipped  back  his  chair,  balancing  himself  with  one  hand 
on  the  table. 

"  The  use  of  the  gun,"  he  said  lazily,  "  is  obsolete  in 
the  modern  novel ;  the  theme  now  is,  how  to  be  passion 
ate  though  pure.  Personally,  being  neither  one  nor  the 
other,  I  remain  uninterested  in  the  modern  novel." 

"  Real  life,"  said  Portlaw,  spearing  a  fish-ball,  "  ia 
damn  monotonous.  The  only  gun-play  is  in  the  morn 
ing  papers." 

"  Sure,"  nodded  Malcourt,  "  and  there's  too  many 
454 


MALCOURT   LISTENS 


shooting  items  in  'em  every  day  to  make  gun-play  avail 
able  for  a  novel.  .  .  .  Once,  when  I  thought  I  could 
write — just  after  I  left  college — they  took  me  aboard  a 
morning  newspaper  on  the  strength  of  a  chance  I  had 
to  discover  a  missing  woman. 

"  She  was  in  hiding;  her  name  had  been  horribly 
spattered  in  a  divorce,  and  the  poor  thing  was  in  hid 
ing — had  changed  her  name,  crept  off  to  a  little  town 
in  Delaware. 

"  Our  enlightened  press  was  hunting  for  her;  to 
find  her  was  termed  a  '  scoop,'  I  believe.  .  .  .  Well — 
boys  pull  legs  off  grasshoppers  and  do  other  damnable 
things  without  thinking.  ...  7  found  her.  ...  So 
as  I  knocked  at  her  door — in  the  mean  little  farmhouse 
down  there  in  Delaware — she  opened  it,  smiling — she 
was  quite  pretty — and  blew  her  brains  out  in  my  very 
face." 

"  Wh-what !  "  bawled  Portlaw,  dropping  knife  and 
'ork. 

"  I — I  want  to  see  that  girl  again — some  time,"  said 
Malcourt  thoughtfully.  "  I  would  like  to  tell  her  that 
I  didn't  mean  it — case  of  boy  and  grasshopper,  you 
know.  .  .  .  Well,  as  you  say,  gun-play  has  no  place 
in  real  novels.  There  wouldn't  be  room,  anyway,  with 
all  the  literature  and  illustrations  and  purpose  and 
purple  preciousness ;  as  anachronismatically  superfluous 
as  sleigh-bells  in  hell." 

Portlaw  resumed  his  egg;  Malcourt  considered  him 
ironically. 

"  Sporty  Forty,  are  you  going  to  wed  the  Pretty 
Lady  of  Pride's  Hall  at  Pride's  Fall  some  blooming  day 
in  June?  " 

"  None  of  your  infernal  business!  " 

"  Quite  so.  I  only  wanted  to  see  how  the  novel 
30  455 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


was  coming  out  before  somebody  takes  the  book  away 
from  me." 

"  You  talk  like  a  pint  of  shoe-strings,"  growled  Port- 
law  ;  "  you'd  better  find  out  whose  horse  has  been  dent 
ing  the  lawn  all  over  and  tearing  off  several  yards  of  sod." 

"  I  know  already,"  said  Malcourt. 

"  Well,  who  had  the  nerve  to " 

"  None  of  your  bally  business,  dear  friend.  Are 
you  riding  over  to  Pride's  to-day?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am." 

"  I  think  I'll  go,  too." 

"  You're  not  expected." 

"  That's  the  charm  of  it,  old  fellow.  I  didn't  expect 
to  go ;  they  don't  expect  me ;  they  don't  want  me ;  I 
want  to  go !  All  the  elements  of  a  delightful  surprise, 
do  you  notice?  " 

Portlaw  said,  irritably :  "  They  asked  Mrs.  Malcourt 
and  me.  Nothing  was  said  about  you." 

"  Something  will  be  said  if  I  go,"  observed  Malcourt 
cheerfully. 

Portlaw  was  exasperated.  "  There's  a  girl  there  you 
behaved  badly  to.  You'd  better  stay  away." 

Malcourt  looked  innocently  surprised. 

"  Now,  who  could  that  be !  I  have,  it  is  true,  at 
times,  misbehaved,  but  I  can't  ever  remember  behaving 
badly " 

Portlaw,  too  mad  to  speak,  strode  wrathfully  away 
toward  the  stables. 

Malcourt  was  interested  to  see  that  he  could  stride 
now  without  waddling. 

"  Marvellous,  marvellous  ! — the  power  of  love !  "  he 
mused  sentimentally ;  "  Porty  is  no  longer  rotund — only 
majestically  portly.  See  where  he  hastens  lightly  to 
his'Alida! 

456 


MALCOURT  LISTENS 


"  Shepherd  fair  and  maidens  all — 
Too-ri-looral ! 
Too-ri-looral !  " 

And,  very  gracefully,  he  sketched  a  step  or  two  in 
contra-dance  to  his  own  shadow  on  the  grass. 

"  Shepherd  fair  and  maidens  all — 
Truly  rural, 
Too-ri-looral, 

Man  prefers  his  maidens  plural ; 
One  is  none,  he  wants  them  all ! 
Too-ri-looral  1 
Too-ri-looral " 

And  he  sauntered  off  humming  gaily,  making  playful 
passes  at  the  trees  with  his  riding-crop  as  he  passed. 

Later  he  aided  his  wife  to  mount  and  stood  looking 
after  her  as  she  rode  away,  Portlaw  pounding  along 
heavily  beside  her. 

"  All  alone  with  the  daisies,"  he  said,  looking  around 
him  when  they  had  disappeared. 

Toward  noon  he  ordered  a  horse,  ate  his  luncheon 
in  leisurely  solitude,  read  yesterday's  papers  while  he 
smoked,  then  went  out,  mounted,  and  took  the  road 
to  Pride's  Fall,  letting  his  horse  choose  his  own  pace. 

Moving  along  through  the  pretty  forest  road,  he 
glanced  casually  right  and  left  as  he  advanced,  tapping 
his  riding-boots  in  rhythm  to  the  air  he  was  humming  in 
a  careless  undertone — something  about  a  shepherd  and 
the  plural  tastes  of  man. 

His  mood  was  inspired  by  that  odd  merriment  which 
came  from  sheer  perversity.  When  the  depths  and  shal 
lows  of  his  contradictory  character  were  disturbed  a 
ripple  of  what  passed  for  mirth  covered  all  the  surface ; 

457 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


if  there  was  any  profundity  to  the  man  the  ripple  ob 
scured  it.  No  eye  had  ever  penetrated  the  secrecy  of 
what  lay  below;  none  ever  would.  Perhaps  there  was 
nothing  there. 

lie  journeyed  on,  his  horse  ambling  or  walking  as 
it  suited  him,  or  sometimes  veering  to  stretch  a  long 
glossy  neck  and  nip  at  a  bunch  of  leaves. 

The  cock-partridge  stood  on  his  drumming-log  and 
defied  the  forest  rider,  all  unseen;  rabbit  and  squirrel 
sat  bolt  upright  with  palpitating  flanks  and  moist 
bright  eyes  at  gaze;  overhec. <  f"he  slow  hawks  sailed, 
looking  down  at  him  as  he  rode. 

Sometimes  Malcourt  whistled  to  himself,  sometimes 
he  sang  in  a  variably  agreeable  voice,  and  now  and  then 
he  quoted  the  poets,  taking  pleasure  in  the  precision 
of  his  own  diction. 

"  C'est  le  jour  des  morts, 
Mirliton,  Mirlitaine ! 
Requiescant  in  pace !" 

he  chanted;  and  quoted  more  of  the  same  bard  with  •* 
grimace,  adding,  as  he  spurred  his  horse: 

"  Poet  a  nascitur,  non  fit! — the  poet's  nasty  and  not 
fit.  Zut!  Boum-boum!  Get  along,  old  fellow,  or  we'll 
never  see  the  pretty  ladies  of  Pride's  this  blooming 
lay !  " 

There  was  a  shorter  cut  by  a  spotted  trail,  and  when 
he  saw  the  first  blaze  glimmering  through  the  leaves  he 
steered  his  horse  toward  it.  The  sound  of  voices  came 
distantly  from  the  wooded  heights  above — far  laughter, 
the  faint  aroma  of  a  wood  fire;  no  doubt  some  pic 
nickers — trespassing  as  usual,  but  that  was  Mrs.  As- 
cott's  affair. 

458 


MALCOURT   LISTENS 


A  little  later,  far  below  him,  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  white  gown  among  the  trees.  There  was  a  spring 
down  there  somewhere  in  that  thicket  of  silver  birches ; 
probably  one  of  the  trespassers  was  drinking.  So,  idly 
curious,  he  rode  that  way,  his  horse  making  no  sound 
on  the  thick  moss. 

"  If  she's  ornamental,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I'll  lin 
ger  to  point  out  the  sin  of  trespassing;  that  is  if  she 
is  sufficiently  ornamental ' 

His  horse  stepped  on  a  dead  branch  which  cracked ; 
the  girl  in  white,  who  had  been  looking  out  through  the 
birch-trees  across  the  valley,  turned  her  head. 

They  recognised  each  other  even  at  that  distance; 
he  uttered  a  low  exclamation  of  satisfaction,  sprang  from 
his  saddle,  and  led  his  horse  down  among  the  mossy 
rocks  of  the  water-course  to  the  shelf  of  rock  over 
hanging  the  ravine  where  she  stood  as  motionless  as 
one  of  the  silver  saplings. 

"  Virginia,"  he  said,  humorously  abashed,  "  shall  I 
say  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  and  how  d'you  do,  and  offer 
you  my  hand? — or  had  I  better  not?  " 

He  thought  she  meant  to  answer ;  perhaps  she  meant 
to,  but  found  no  voice  at  her  disposal. 

He  dropped  his  bridle  over  a  branch  and,  drawing 
!>ff  his  gloves,  walked  up  to  where  she  was  standing. 

"  I  knew  you  were  at  Pride's  Hall,"  he  said ;  "  I'm 
aware,  also,  that  nobody  there  either  expected  or  wished 
to  see  me.  But  I  wanted  to  see  you ;  and  little  things  of 
that  sort  couldn't  keep  me  away.  Where  are  the  others  ?  " 

She  strove  twice  to  answer  him,  then  turned  abruptly, 
stead}7ing  herself  against  a  birch-tree  with  one  arm. 

"  Where  are  the  others,  Virginia?  "  he  asked  gently. 

"  On  the  rocks  beyond." 

"Picnicking?" 

459 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Yes." 

"How  charming!"  he  said;  "  as  though  one  couldn't 
see  enough  country  out  of  one's  windows  every  minute 
in  the  year.  But  you  can't  tell  where  sentiment  will  crop 
up;  some  people  don't  object  to  chasing  ants  off  the 
dishes  and  fishing  sticks  out  of  the  milk.  I  do.  ... 
It's  rather  fortunate  I  found  you  alone:  saves  a  frigid 
reception  and  cruel  comments  after  I'm  gone.  .  .  . 
After  I'm  gone,  Virginia." 

He  seated  himself  where  the  sunlight  fell  agree 
ably  and  looked  off  over  the  valley.  A  shrunken 
river  ran  below — a  mere  thread  of  life  through  its  own 
stony  skeleton — a  mockery  of  what  it  once  had  been 
before  the  white-hided  things  on  two  legs  had  cut  the 
forests  from  the  hills  and  killed  its  cool  mossy  sources 
in  their  channels.  The  crushers  of  pulp  and  the  sawyers 
of  logs  had  done  their  dirty  work  thoroughly;  their 
acids  and  their  sawdust  poisoned  and  choked;  their 
devastation  turned  the  tree-clothed  hill  flanks  to  arid 
lumps  of  sand  and  rock. 

He  said  aloud,  "to  think  of  these  trees  being 
turned  into  newspapers !  " 

He  looked  up  at  her  whimsically. 

"  The  least  I  can  do  is  to  help  grow  them  again. 
As  a  phosphate  I  might  amount  to  something — if  I'm 
carefully  spaded  in."  And  in  a  lower  voice  just  escap 
ing  mockery:  "  How  are  you,  Virginia?" 

"  I  am  perfectly  well." 

"  Are  you  well  enough  to  sit  down  and  talk  to  me 
for  half  an  hour?  " 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Don't  be  dignified ;  there  is  nothing  more  inartis 
tic,  except  a  woman  who  is  trying  to  be  brave  on  an 
inadequate  income." 

460 


MALCOURT   LISTENS 


She  did  not  move  or  look  at  him. 

"  Virginia — dear?  " 

"What?" 

"  Do  you  remember  that  day  we  met  in  the  surf ; 
and  you  said  something  insolent  to  me,  and  bent  over, 
laying  your  palms  flat  on  the  water,  looking  at  me  over 
your  shoulder?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  knew  what  you  were  doing?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  This  is  part  of  the  consequences.  That's  what  life 
is,  nothing  but  a  game  of  consequences.  I  knew  what 
I  was  doing;  you  admit  you  were  responsible  for  your 
self;  and  nothing  but  consequences  have  resulted  ever 
since.  Sit  down  and  be  reasonable  and  friendly;  won't 
you?" 

"  I  cannot  stay  here." 

"  Try,"  he  said,  smiling,  and  made  room  for  her 
on  the  sun-crisped  moss.  A  little  later  she  seated  her 
self  with  an  absent-minded  air  and  gazed  out  across  the 
valley.  A  leaf  or  two,  prematurely  yellow,  drifted  from 
the  birches. 

"  It  reminds  me,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "  of  that  ex 
quisite  poem  on  Autumn : 

"  '  The  autumn  leaves  are  falling, 
They're  falling  everywhere ; 
They're  falling  in  the  atmosphere, 
They're  falling  in  the  air ' 

— and  I  don't  remember  any  more,  dear." 

"  Did  you  wish  to  say  anything  to  me  besides  non 
sense?  "  she  asked,  flushing. 

"  Did  you  expect  anything  else  from  me  ?  " 
461 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  I  had  no  reason  to." 

"  Oh ;  I  thought  you  might  have  been  prepared  for 
a  little  wickedness." 

She  turned  her  eyes,  more  green  than  blue,  on  him. 

"  I  was  not  unprepared." 

"  Nor  I,"  he  said  gaily ;  "  don't  let's  disappoint  each 
other.  You  know  our  theory  is  that  the  old  families 
are  decadent ;  and  I  think  we  ought  to  try  to  prove  any 
theory  we  advance — in  the  interests  of  psychology. 
Don't  you?" 

"  I  think  we  have  proved  it." 

He  laughed,  and  passing  his  arm  around  her  drew 
her  head  so  that  it  rested  against  his  face. 

"  That  is  particularly  dishonourable,"  she  said  in  an 
odd  voice. 

"  Because  I'm  married?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  because  I  know  it." 

"  That's  true ;  you  didn't  know  it  when  we  were  at 
Palm  Beach.  That  was  tamer  than  this.  I  think  now 
we  can  very  easily  prove  our  theory."  And  he  kissed 
her,  still  laughing.  But  when  he  did  it  again,  she  turned 
her  face  against  his  shoulder. 

"  Courage,"  he  said ;  "  we  ought  to  be  able  to  prove 
this  theory  of  ours — you  and  I  together " 

She  was  crying. 

"  If  you're  feeling  guilty  on  Shiela's  account,  you 
needn't,"  he  said.  "  Didn't  you  know  she  can  scarcely 
endure  me  ?  " 

"Y-yes." 

"  Well,  then " 

"  No — no — no !     Louis — I  care  too  much " 

"For  yourself?" 

«  N-no." 

"  For  me?     For  Shiela?     For  public  opinion?  " 
462 


MALCOURT   LISTENS 


"  No." 

"For  what?" 

"  I — I  think  it  must  be  for — for — just  for  being 
—decent." 

He  inspected  her  with  lively  interest. 

"  Hello,"  he  said  coolly,  "  you're  disproving  our 
theory!" 

She  turned  her  face  away  from  him,  touching  her 
eyes  with  her  handkerchief. 

"  Or,"  he  added  ironically,  "  is  there  another  man?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  without  resentment ;  and  there  was 
a  certain  quality  in  her  voice  new  to  him — a  curious 
sweetness  that  he  had  never  before  perceived. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  quietly,  "  have  you  really  suf 
fered?  " 

"Suffered?     Yes." 

"  You  really  cared  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  do  still." 

A  flicker  of  the  old  malice  lighted  his  face. 

"  But  you  won't  let  me  kiss  you  ?    Why  ?  " 

She  looked  up  into  his  eyes.  "  I  feel  as  powerless 
with  you  as  I  was  before.  You  could  always  have  had 
your  will.  Once  I  would  not  have  blamed  you.  Now 
it  would  be  cowardly — because — I  have  forgiven  my- 
self- 

"  I  won't  disturb  your  vows,"  he  said  seriously. 

"  Then — I  think  you  had  better  go." 

"  I  am  going.  ...  I  only  wanted  to  see  you  again. 
.  .  .  May  I  ask  you  something,  dear?  " 

"  Ask  it,"  she  said. 

"  Then — you  are  going  to  get  over  this,  aren't 
you?" 

"  Not  as  long  as  you  live,  Louis." 

"Oh!  .   .   .  And  suppose  I  were  not  living?  " 
463 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


66 1  don't  know." 

"  You'd  recover,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Well,  you'd  never  have  any  other  temptation '* 

She  turned  scarlet. 

"  That  is  wicked !  " 

"  It  certainly  is,"  he  said  with  great  gravity ;  "  and 
I  must  come  to  the  scarcely  flattering  conclusion  that 
there  is  in  me  a  source  of  hideous  depravity,  the  unseen, 
emanations  of  which,  like  those  of  the  classic  upas-tree, 
are  purest  poison  to  a  woman  morally  constituted  as  you 


She  looked  up  as  he  laughed ;  but  there  was  no  mirth 
in  her  bewildered  eyes. 

"  There  is  something  in  you,  Louis,  which  is  fatal 
to  the  better  side  of  me." 

"  The  other  Virginia  couldn't  endure  me,  I  know." 

"  My  other  self  learned  to  love  your  better  self." 

"  I  have  none " 

"  I  have  seen  it  revealed  in " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  laughed,  "  revealed  in  what  you  used 
to  call  one  of  my  infernal  flashes  of  chivalry." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  quietly,  "  in  that." 

He  sat  very  still  there  in  the  afternoon  sunshine, 
pondering ;  and  sometimes  his  gaze  searched  the  valley 
depths  below,  lost  among  the  tree-tops ;  sometimes  he 
studied  the  far  horizon  where  the  little  blue  hills  stood 
up  against  the  sky  like  little  blue  waves  at  sea.  His 
hat  was  off;  the  cliff  breeze  played  with  his  dark  curly 
hair,  lifting  it  at  the  temples,  stirring  the  one  obstinate 
strand  that  never  lay  quite  fiat  on  the  crown  of  his 
head. 

Twice  she  looked  around  as  though  to  interrupt  his 
preoccupation,  but  he  neither  responded  nor  even  seemed 

464 


MALCOUET   LISTENS 


to  be  aware  of  her;  and  she  sighed  imperceptibly  and 
followed  his  errant  eyes  with  her  own. 

At  last: 

"  Is  there  no  way  out  of  it  for  you,  Louis?  I  am 
not  thinking  of  myself,"  she  added  simply. 

He  turned  fully  around. 

"  If  there  was   a  way  out  I'd  take  it  and  marry 

you." 

"  I  did  not  ask  for  that ;  I  was  thinking  of  you." 

He  was  silent. 

"  Besides-,"  she  said,  "  I  know  that  you  do  not  love 
me." 

"  That  is  true  only  because  I  will  not.     I  could." 

She  looked  at  him. 

"  But,"  he  said  calmly,  "  I  mustn't ;  because  there 
is  no  way  out  for  me — there's  no  way  out  of  anything 
for  me — while  I  live — down  here." 

"  Down — where?  " 

"  On  this  exotic  planet  called  the  earth,  dear  child," 
he  said  with  mocking  gravity.  "  I'm  a  sort  of  moon 
calf — a  seed  blown  clear  from  Saturn's  surface,  which 
fell  here  and  sprouted  into  the  thing  you  call  Louis  Mai- 
court."  And,  his  perverse  gaiety  in  full  possession  of 
him  again,  he  laughed,  and  his  mirth  was  tinctured  with 
the  bitter-sweet  of  that  humorous  malice  which  jeered 
unkindly  only  at  himself. 

"  All  to  the  bad,  Virginia — all  to  the  bow-wows — 
judging  me  from  your  narrow,  earthly  standard  and  the 
laws  of  your  local  divinity.  That's  why  I  want  to  see 
the  real  One  and  ask  Him  how  bad  I  really  am.  They'd 
tell  me  down  here  that  I'll  never  see  Him.  Zut!  I'll 
take  that  chance — not  such  a  long  shot  either.  Why,  if 
I  am  no  good,  the  risk  is  all  the  better;  He  is  because 
of  such  as  I!  No  need  for  Him  where  all  the  ba-bas 

465 


THE   FIEING   LINE 


are  white  as  the  Jviven  snow,  and  all  the  little  white 
doves  keep  their  feathers  clean  and  coo-coo  hymns  from 
dawn  to  sunset.  .  .  .  By  the  way,  I  never  gave  you 
anything,  did  I? — a  Chinese  god,  for  example?" 

She  shook  her  head,  bewildered  at  his  inconse 
quences. 

*l  No,  I  never  did.  You're  not  entitled  to  a  gift  of  a 
Chinese  god  from  me.  But  I've  given  eighteen  of  them 
to  a  number  of — ah — friends.  I  had  nineteen,  hut  never 
had  the — right  to  present  that  nineteenth  god  "** 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Louis  ?  " 

"  Ohj  oiiosc  glided  idols  are  the  deities  of  secrecy. 
Tlieir  commandment  is,  '  Thou  shalt  not  be  found  out.* 
So  I  distributed  them  among  those  who  worship  them — 
that  is,  I  have  so  directed  my  executors.  .  .  .  By  the 
way,  I  made  a  new  will." 

He  looked  at  her  cheerfully,  evidently  very  much 
pleased  with  himself. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  I've  left  to  you?  " 

"  Louis,  I  don't " 

"  Why,  the  bridle,  saddle,  crop,  and  spurs  I  wore 
that  day  when  we  rode  to  the  ocean !  Don't  you  re 
member  the  day  that  you  noticed  me  listening  and  asked 
me  what  I  heard?  " 

«  y-yes " 

"  And  I  told  you  I  was  listening  to  my  father  ?  " 

Again  that  same  chilly  tremor  passed  over  her  as 
it  had  then. 

The  sun,  over  the  Adirondack  foot-hills,  hung  above 
bands  of  smouldering  cloud.  Presently  it  dipped  into 
them,  hanging  triple-ringed,  like  Saturn  on  fire. 

"  It's  time  for  you  to  go,"  he  said  in  an  altered 
voice ;  and  she  turned  to  find  him  standing  and  ready 
to  aid  her. 

466 


MALCOUBT  LISTENS 


A  little  pale  with  the  realisation  that  the  end  had 
come  so  soon,  she  rose  and  walked  slowly  back  to  where 
his  horse  stood  munching  leaves. 

"  Well,  Virginia — good-bye,  little  girl.  You'll  be 
all  right  before  long." 

There  was  no  humour  left  in  his  voice  now ;  no  mock 
ing  in  his  dark  gaze. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  in  vague  distress. 

"Where  are  the  others?"  he  asked.  "Oh,  up  on 
those  rocks?  Yes,  I  see  the  smoke  of  their  fire.  .  .  . 
Say  good-bye  to  them  for  me — not  now — some  day." 

She  did  not  understand  him;  he  hesitated,  smiled, 
and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Good-bye,  dear,"  he  said. 

"  Good-bye." 

They  kissed. 

After  she  was  half-way  to  the  top  of  the  rocks  he 
mounted  his  horse.  She  did  not  look  back. 

"  She's  a  good  little  sport,"  he  said,  smiling ;  and, 
gathering  bridle,  turned  back  into  the  forest.  This 
time  he  neither  sang  nor  whistled  as  he  rode  through 
the  red  splendour  of  the  western  sun.  But  he  was  very 
busy  listening. 

There  was  plenty  to  hear,  too;  wood-thrushes  were 
melodious  in  the  late  afternoon  light ;  infant  crows  cawed 
from  high  nests  unseen  in  the  leafy  tree-tops ;  the 
stream's  thin,  silvery  song  threaded  the  forest  quiet,  ac 
companying  him  as  he  rode  home. 

Home?  Yes — if  this  silent  house  where  he  dis 
mounted  could  be  called  that.  The  place  was  very  still. 
Evidently  the  servants  had  taken  advantage  of  their 
master's  and  mistress's  absence  to  wander  out  into  the 
woods.  Some  of  the  stablemen  had  the  dogs  out,  too; 
there  was  nobody  in  sight  to  take  his  horse,  so  he  led 

467 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


the  animal  to  the  stables  and  found  there  a  lad  to  relieve 
him. 

Then  he  retraced  his  steps  to  the  house  and  en 
tered  the  deserted  garden  ~yhere  pearl-tinted  spikes  of 
iris  perfumed  the  air  and  great  masses  of  peonies  nodded 
along  borders  banked  deep  under  the  long  wall.  A  few 
butterflies  still  flitted  in  the  golden  radiance,  but  al 
ready  that  solemn  harbinger  of  sunset,  the  garden  toad, 
had  emerged  from  leafy  obscurity  into  the  gravel 
path,  and  hopped  heavily  forward  as  Malcourt  passed 

by- 

The  house — nothing  can  be  as  silent  as  an  emptj 
house — echoed  his  spurred  tread  from  porch  to  stair 
way.  He  went  up  to  the  first  landing,  not  knowing 
why,  then  roamed  aimlessly  through,  wandering  from 
room  to  room,  idly,  looking  on  familiar  things  as  though 
they  were  strange — strange,  but  uninteresting. 

Upstairs  and  down,  in,  around,  and  about  he  drifted, 
quiet  as  a  cat,  avoiding  only  his  wife's  bedroom.  He  had 
never  entered  it  since  their  marriage;  he  did  not  care 
to  do  so  now,  though  the  door  stood  wide.  And,  indif 
ferent,  he  turned  without  even  a  glance,  and  traversing 
the  hall,  descended  the  stairs  to  the  library. 

For  a  while  he  sat  there,  legs  crossed,  drumming 
thoughtfully  on  his  boot  with  his  riding-crop  ;  and  after 
a  while  he  dragged  the  chair  forward  and  picked  up  a 
pen. 

"  Why  not?  "  he  said  aloud;  "  it  will  save  railroad 
fare— and  she'll  need  it  all." 

So,  to  his  lawyer  in  New  York  he  wrote: 

"  I  won't  come  to  town  after  all.  You  have  my  let 
ter  and  you  know  what  I  want  done.  Nobody  is  likely 
to  dispute  the  matter,  and  it  won't  require  a  will  to 
make  my  wife  carry  out  the  essence  of  the  thing." 

468 


MALCOURT   LISTENS 


And  signed  his  name. 

When  he  had  sealed  and  directed  the  letter  he  could 
find  no  stamp ;  so  he  left  it  on  the  table. 

"  That's  the  usual  way  they  find  such  letters,"  he 
said,  smiling  to  himself  as  the  thought  struck  him.  "  It 
certainly  is  hard  to  be  original.  .  .  .  But  then  I'm  not 
ambitious." 

He  found  another  sheet  of  paper  and  wrote  to 
Hamil : 

"  All  the  same  you  are  wrong ;  I  have  alway«  been 
your  friend.  My  father  comes  first,  as  always;  you 
second.  There  is  no  third." 

This  note,  signed,  sealed,  and  addressed,  he  left  with 
the  other. 

"  Certainly  I  am  not  original  in  the  least,"  he  said, 
beginning  another  note. 

"  DOLLY  DEAR  : 

"  You  have  made  good.  Continue^  chere  enfant — 
and  if  you  don't  know  what  that  means  your  French  les 
sons  are  in  vain.  Now  the  usual  few  words :  don't  let  any 
man  who  is  not  married  to  you  lay  the  weight  of  his 
little  finger  on  you!  Don't  ignore  convention  unless 
there  is  a  good  reason — and  then  don't!  When  you're 
tired  of  behaving  yourself  go  to  sleep ;  and  if  you  can't 
sleep,  sleep  some  more;  and  then  some.  Men  are 
exactly  like  women  until  they  differ  from  them ;  there 
is  no  real  mystery  about  either  outside  of  popular 
novels. 

"  I  am  very,  very  glad  that  I  have  known  you,  Dolly. 
Don't  tint  yourself,  except  for  the  footlights.  There 
are  other  things,  but  I  can't  think  of  them;  and  so, 

S°od'bye-  «  Louis  MAI.COUET." 

469 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


This  letter  he  sealed  and  laid  with  the  others ;  it  was 
the  last.  There  was  nothing  more  to  do,  except  to  open 
the  table  drawer  and  drop  something  into  the  side 
pocket  of  his  coat. 

Malcourt  had  no  favourite  spots  in  the  woods  and 
fields  around  him ;  one  trail  resembled  another ;  he  cared 
as  much  for  one  patch  of  woods,  one  wild  meadow,  one 
tumbling  brook  as  he  did  for  the  next — which  was  not 
very  much. 

But  there  was  one  place  where  the  sun-bronzed  moss 
was  deep  and  level ;  where,  on  the  edge  of  a  leafy  ravine, 
the  last  rays  of  the  sinking  sun  always  lingered  after 
all  else  lay  in  shadow. 

Here  he  sat  down,  thoughtfully;  and  for  a  little 
while  remained  in  his  listening  attitude.  Then,  smiling, 
he  lay  back,  pillowing  his  head  on  his  left  arm ;  and 
drew  something  from  the  side  pocket  of  his  coat. 

The  world  had  grown  silent;  across  the  ravine  a 
deer  among  the  trees  watched  him,  motionless. 

Suddenly  the  deer  leaped  in  an  ecstasy  of  terror  and 
went  crashing  away  into  obscurity.  But  Malcourt  lay 
very,  very  still. 

His  hat  was  off;  the  cliff  breeze  played  with  his 
dark  curly  hair,  lifting  it  at  the  temples,  stirring  the 
one  obstinate  strand  that  never  lay  quite  flat  on  the 
crown  of  his  head. 

A  moment  later  the  sun  set. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

HAMIL    IS    SILENT 

LATE  in  the  autumn  his  aunt  wrote  HamiJ  from 
Sapphire  Springs : 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  favourable  change  in  Shiela* 
Her  aversion  to  people  is  certainly  modified.  Yesterday 
on  my  way  to  the  hot  springs  I  met  her  with  her  trained 
nurse,  Miss  Lester,  face  to  face,  and  of  course  meant 
to  pass  on  as  usual,  apparently  without  seeing  her;  but 
to  my  surprise  she  turned  and  spoke  my  name  very 
quietly;  and  I  said,  as  though  we  had  parted  the  day 
before — *  I  hope  you  are  better ' ;  and  she  said,  '  I  think 
I  am ' — very  slowly  and  precisely  like  a  person  who 
strives  to  speak  correctly  in  a  foreign  tongue.  Garry, 
dear,  it  was  too  pathetic ;  she  is  so  changed — beautiful, 
even  more  beautiful  than  before;  but  the  last  childish 
softness  has  fled  from  the  delicate  and  almost  undecided 
features  you  remember,  and  her  face  has  settled  into  a 
nobler  mould.  Do  you  recollect  in  the  Munich  Museum 
an  antique  marble,  by  some  unknown  Greek  sculptor, 
called  '  Head  of  a  Young  Amazon  '  ?  You  must  recall 
it  because  you  have  spoken  to  me  of  its  noble  and  al 
most  immortal  loveliness.  Dear,  it  resembles  Shiela  as 
she  is  now — with  that  mysterious  and  almost  imper 
ceptible  hint  of  sorrow  in  the  tenderly  youthful  dignity 
of  the  features. 

31  471 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  We  exchanged  only  the  words  I  have  written  you ; 
she  passed  her  way  leaning  on  Miss  Lester's  arm;  I 
went  for  a  mud  bath  as  a  precaution  to  our  inherited 
enemy.  If  rheumatism  gets  ire  at  last  it  will  not  be  the 
fault  of  your  aged  and  timorous  aunt. 

"  So  that  was  all,  yesterday.  But  to-day  as  I  was 
standing  on  the  leafy  path  above  the  bath-houses,  lis 
tening  to  the  chattering  of  some  excited  birds  recently 
arrived  from  the  North  in  the  first  batch  of  migrants, 
Miss  Lester  came  up  to  me  and  said  that  Shiela 
would  like  to  see  me,  and  that  the  doctors  said  there 
was  no  harm  in  her  talking  to  anybody  if  she  desired 
to  do  so. 

"  So  I  took  my  book  to  a  rustic  seat  under  the  trees, 
and  presently  our  little  Shiela  came  by,  leaning  on  Miss 
Lester's  arm;  and  Miss  Lester  walked  on,  leaving  her 
seated  beside  me. 

"  For  quite  five  minutes  she  neither  spoke  nor  even 
looked  at  me,  and  I  was  very  careful  to  leave  the  quiet 
unbroken. 

"  The  noise  of  the  birds — they  were  not  singing,  only 
chattering  to  each  other  about  their  trip — seemed  to  at 
tract  her  notice,  and  she  laid  her  hand  on  mine  to  direct 
my  attention.  Her  hand  remained  there — she  has  the 
same  soft  little  hands,  as  dazzlingly  white  as  ever,  only 
thinner. 

"  She  said,  not  looking  at  me :  '  I  have  been  ill.  You 
understand  that.' 

"  *  Yes,'  I  said,  '  but  it  is  all  over  now,  isn't  it?' 

"  She  nodded  listlessly :  '  I  think  so.' 

"  Again,  but  not  looking  at  me  she  spoke  of  her 
illness  as  dating  from  a  shock  received  long  ago.  She 
is  a  little  confused  about  the  lapse  of  time,  vague  as 
to  dates.  You  see  it  is  four  months  since  Louis — did 

472 


HAMIL   IS   SILENT 


what  he  did.  She  said  nothing  more,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  Miss  Lester  came  back  for  her. 

"  No\v  as  to  her  mental  condition :  I  have  had  a 
thorough  understanding  with  the  physicians  and  one 
and  all  assure  me  that  there  is  absolutely  nothing  the 
matter  with  her  except  the  physical  consequences  of  the 
shock ;  and  those  are  wearing  off. 

"  What  she  did,  what  she  lived  through  with  him — 
the  dreadful  tension,  the  endless  insomnia — all  this — 
and  then,  when  the  searching  party  was  out  all  night 
long  in  the  rain  and  all  the  next  day — and  then,  Garry, 
to  have  her  stumble  on  him  at  dusk — that  young  girl, 
all  .alone,  nerves  strung  to  the  breaking  point — and  to 
find  him,  that  way !  Was  it  not  enough  to  account  for 
this  nervous  demoralisation?  The  wonder  is  that  it  has 
not.  permanently  injured  her. 

"  But  it  has  not ;  she  is  certainly  recovering.  The 
dread  of  seeing  a  familiar  face  is  less  poignant;  her 
father  was  here  to-day  with  Gray  and  she  saw  them  both. 

"  Now,  dear,  as  for  your  coming  here,  it  will  not 
do.  I  can  see  that.  She  has  not  yet  spoken  of  you, 
nor  have  I  ventured  to.  What  her  attitude  toward  you 
may  be  I  cannot  guess  from  her  speech  or  manner. 

"  Miss  Lester  told  me  that  at  first,  in  the  complete 
nervous  prostration,  she  seemed  to  have  a  morbid  idea 
that  you  had  been  unkind  to  her,  neglected  and  deserted 
her — left  her  to  face  some  endless  horror  all  alone.  The 
shock  to  her  mind  had  been  terrible,  Garry ;  everything 
was  grotesquely  twisted — she  had  some  fever,  you  know 
• — and  Miss  Lester  told  me  that  it  was  too  pitiful  to 
hear  her  talk  of  you  and  mix  up  everything  with  mili 
tary  jargon  about  outpost  duty  and  the  firing  line,  and 
some  comrade  who  had  deserted  her  under  fire. 

"  All  of  which  I  mention,  dear,  so  that  you  may,  in 
473 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


a  measure,  comprehend  how  very  ill  she  has  been;  and 
that  she  is  not  ye'  n'elJ  by  any  means,  and  perhaps  will 
not  be  for  a  long  time  to  come. 

"  To-night  I  had  a  very  straight  talk  with  Mr.  Car- 
dross.  One  has  to  talk  straight  when  one  talks  to 
him.  There  is  not  in  my  mind  the  slightest  doubt  that 
he  knows  exactly  now  what  misguided  impulse  drove 
Shiela  to  that  distressing  sacrifice  of  herself  and  you. 
And  at  first  I  was  afraid  that  what  she  had  done  from 
a  mistaken  sense  of  duty  might  have  hastened  poor 
Louis'  end ;  but  Mr.  Cardross  told  me  that  from  the  day 
of  his  father's  death  he  had  determined  to  follow  in 
the  same  fashion;  and  had  told  Mr.  Cardross  of  his 
intention  more  thai?  once. 

"  So  you  see  it  was  is  ^im — in  the  blood.  See  what 
his  own  sister  did  to  herself  within  a  month  of  Louis' 
death! 

"  A  strange  family ;  an  utterly  incomprehensible 
race.  And  Mr.  Cardross  says  that  it  happened  to  his 
father's  father ;  and  his  father  before  him  died  by  his 
own  hand! 

"  Now  there  is  little  more  news  to  write  you — little 
more  that  could  interest  you  because  you  care  only  to 
hear  about  Shiela,  and  that  is  perfectly  reasonable. 

"  However,  what  there  is  of  news  I  will  write  you 
as  faithfully  as  I  have  done  ever  since  I  came  here  on 
your  service  under  pretence  of  fighting  gout  which, 
Heaven  be  praised,  has  never  yet  waylaid  me! — unbe- 
rufen ! 

"  So,  to  continue :  the  faithful  three,  Messieurs  Clas- 
son,  Cuyp,  and  Vetchen,  do  valiantly  escort  me  on  my 
mountain  rides  and  drives.  They  are  dears,  all  three, 
Garry,  and  it  does  not  become  you  to  shrug  your  shoul- 

474 


HAMIL   IS   SILENT 


ders.  When  I  go  to  Palm  Beach  in  January  they,  as 
usual,  are  going  too.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do 
without  them,  Virginia  having  decided  to  remain  in 
Europe  this  winter. 

"  Yes,  to  answer  your  question,  Mr.  Wayward  ex 
pects  to  cruise  as  far  South  as  Palm  Beach  in  January. 
I  happen  to  have  a  note  from  him  here  on  my  desk 
in  which  he  asks  me  whether  he  may  invite  you  to  go 
with  him.  Isn't  it  a  tactful  way  of  finding  out  whether 
you  would  care  to  be  at  Palm  Beach  this  winter? 

"  So  I  shall  write  him  that  I  think  you  would  like 
to  be  asked.  Because,  Garry,  I  do  believe  that  it  is 
all  turning  out  naturally,  inevitably,  as  it  was  meant 
to  turn  out  from  the  first,  and  that,  some  time  this  win 
ter,  there  can  be  no  reason  why  you  should  not  see 
Shiela  again. 

"  I  know  this,  that  Mr.  Cardross  is  very  fond  of 
you — that  Mrs.  Cardross  is  also — that  every  member  of 
that  most  wholesome  family  cares  a  great  deal  about  you, 

"  As  for  their  not  being  very  fashionable  people, 
their  amiable  freedom  from  social  pretension,  their  very 
simple  origin — all  that,  in  their  case,  affects  me  not  at 
all — where  any  happiness  of  yours  is  concerned. 

"  I  do  like  old-time  folk,  and  lineage  smacking  of 
New  Amsterdam ;  but  even  my  harmless  snobbishness 
is  now  so  completely  out  of  fashion  that  nobody  cares. 
You  are  modern  enough  to  laugh  at  it ;  I  am  not ;  and 
I  still  continue  faithful  to  my  Classens  and  Cuyps  and 
Vetchens  and  Suydams ;  and  to  all  that  they  stand  for 
in  Manhattan — the  rusty  vestiges  of  by-gone  pomp  and 
fussy  circumstance — the  memories  that  cling  to  the  early 
lords  of  the  manors,  the  old  Patroons,  and  titled  refu 
gees — all  this  I  still  cling  to — even  to  their  shabbiness 
and  stupidity  and  bad  manners. 

475 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  Don't  be  too  bitter  in  your  amusement,  for  after 
all,  you  are  kin  to  us;  don't  be  too  severe  on  us;  for 
we  are  passing.  Garry,  the  descendants  of  Patroon  and 
refugee  alike — the  Cuyps,  the  Classons,  the  Van  Die- 
mans,  the  Vetchens,  the  Suydams — and  James  Wayward 
is  the  last  of  his  race,  and  I  am  the  last  of  the 
French  refugees,  and  the  Malcourts  are  alreadj  ended. 
Pax! 

"  True  it  begins  to  look  as  if  the  gentleman  adven 
turer  stock  which  terminates  in  the  Ascotts  and  Port- 
laws  might  be  revived  to  struggle  on  for  another  gen 
eration  ;  but,  Garry,  we  all,  who  intermarry,  are  doomed. 

"  Louis  Malcourt  was  right ;  v.  e  r.re  destined  to 
perish.  Still  we  have  left  our  marks  on  the  nation.  I 
care  for  no  other  epitaph  than  the  names  cf  counties, 
cities,  streets  which  we  have  named  with  our  names. 

"  But  you,  dear,  you  are  wise  in  your  generation 
and  fortunate  to  love  as  you  love.  For,  God  willing, 
your  race  will  begin  the  welding  of  the  old  and  new, 
the  youngest  and  best  of  the  nation.  And  at  the  feet 
of  such  a  race  the  whole  world  lies." 

These  letters  from  Constance  Palliser  to  her  nephew 
continued  during  the  autumn  and  early  winter  while  he 
was  at  work  on  that  series  of  public  parks  provided  for 
by  the  metropolis  on  Long  Island. 

Once  he  was  obliged  to  return  to  Pride's  Hall  to  in 
spect  the  progress  of  work  for  Mrs.  Ascott;  and  it 
happened  during  his  brief  stay  there  that  her  engage 
ment  was  announced. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Hamil,"  said  Portlar  confidentially 
over  their  cigars,  "  I  never  thought  I  could  win  her, 
never  in  the  world.  Besides  poor  Louis  was  opposed  to 

it;  but  you  know  when  I  make  up  HIV  mind " 

476 


HAMIL  IS   SILENT 


"  I  know,"  said  Hamil. 

"  That's  it !  First,  a  man  must  have  a  mind  to  make 
up;  then  he  must  have  enough  intelligence  to  make  it 
up." 

"  Certainly,"  nodded  Hamil. 

"  I'm  glad  you  understand  me,"  said  Portlaw,  grati 
fied.  "  Alida  understands  me ;  why,  do  you  know  that, 
somehow,  everything  I  think  of  she  seems  to  agree  to; 
in  fact,  sometimes — on  one  or  two  unimportant  mat 
ters,  I  actually  believe  that  Mrs.  Ascott  thought  of  what 
I  thought  of,  a  few  seconds  before  I  thought  of  it," 
he  ended  generously ;  "  but,"  and  his  expression  be 
came  slyly  portentous,  "  it  would  never  do  to  have 
her  suspect  it.  I  intend  to  be  Caesar  in  my  own 
house !  " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Hamil  solemnly  ;  "  and  Caesar's  wife 
must  have  no  suspicions." 

It  was  early  November  before  he  returned  to  town. 
His  new  suite  of  offices  in  Broad  Street  hummed  with 
activity,  although  the  lingering  aftermath  of  the  busi 
ness  depression  prevented  for  the  time  being  any  hope 
of  new  commissions  from  private  sources. 

But  fortunately  he  had  enough  public  work  to  keep 
the  office  busy,  and  his  dogged  personal  supervision  of 
it  during  the  racking  suspense  of  Shiela's  illness  was 
his  salvation. 

Twice  a  week  his  aunt  wrote  him  from  Sapphire 
Springs;  every  day  he  went  to  his  outdoor  work  on 
Long  Island  and  forced  himself  to  a  minute  personal 
supervision  of  every  detail,  never  allowing  himself  a 
moment's  brooding,  never  permitting  himself  to  become 
panic-stricken  at  the  outlook  which  varied  from  one  let 
ter  to  another.  For  as  yet,  according  to  these  same 

477 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


letters,  the  woman  he  loved  had  never  once  mentioned 
his  name. 

He  found  little  leisure  for  amusement,  even  had  he 
been  inclined  that  way.  Night  found  him  very  tired ; 
morning  brought  a  hundred  self-imposed  and  compli 
cated  tasks  to  be  accomplished  before  the  advent  of 
another  night. 

He  lived  at  his  club  and  wrote  to  his  aunt  from  there. 
Sundays  were  more  difficult  to  negotiate ;  he  went  to  St. 
George's  in  the  morning,  read  in  the  club  library  until 
afternoon  permitted  him  to  maintain  some  semblance  of 
those  social  duties  which  no  man  has  a  right  to  entirely 
neglect. 

Now  and  then  he  dined  out;  once  he  went  to  the 
opera  with  the  O'Haras ;  but  it  nearly  did  for  him,  for 
they  sang  "  Madame  Butterfly,"  and  Farrar's  matchless 
voice  and  acting  tore  him  to  shreds.  Only  the  happy 
can  endure  such  tragedy. 

And  one  Sunday,  having  pondered  long  that  after 
noon  over  the  last  letter  Malcourt  had  ever  written  him, 
he  put  on  hat  and  overcoat  and  went  to  Greenlawn  Ceme 
tery — a  tedious  journey  through  strange  avenues  and 
unknown  suburbs,  under  a  wet  sky  from  which  occa- 
sionalfy  a  flake  or  two  of  snow  fell  through  the  fine 
spun  drizzle. 

In  the  cemetery  the  oaks  still  bore  leaves  which  were 
growing  while  Malcourt  was  alive;  here  and  there  a 
beech-tree  remained  in  full  autumn  foliage  and  the  grass 
on  the  graves  was  intensely  green;  but  the  few  flowers 
that  lifted  their  stalks  were  discoloured  and  shabby ;  bare 
branches  interlaced  overhead ;  dead  leaves,  wet  and  flat 
tened,  stuck  to  slab  and  headstone  or  left  their  stained 
imprints  on  the  tarnished  marble. 

He  had  bought  some  flowers — violets  and  lilies — at 
478 


HA  MIL   IS   SILENT 


a  florist'?  near  tbc  cemetery  gates.  These  he  laid, 
awKwaruiy,  at  the  L-ase  of  the  white  slab  from  which 
Malcourt's  newly  cut  name  stared  at  him. 

Louis  Malcourt  lay,  as  he  had  wished,  nest  to  his 
father.  Also,  as  he  had  desired,  a  freshly  planted  tree, 
bereft  now  of  foliage,  rose,  spindling,  to  balance  an 
older  one  on  the  other  corner  of  the  plot.  His  sister's 
recently  shaped  grave  lay  just  beyond.  As  yet,  Bertie 
had  provided  no  oeiid?tone  for  the  late  Lady  Tressiivain. 

Hamil  stood  inspecting  Maleourt/s  name,  finding  it 
impossible  to  realise  that  he  was  dead — or  for  that  mat 
ter,  unable  to  comprehend  death  at  all.  The  newly 
chiselled  letters  seemed  vaguely  instinct  with  something 
of  Malcourt's  own  clean-cut  irony;  they  appeared  to 
challenge  him  with  their  mocking  legend  of  death,  dar 
ing  him,  with  sly  malice,  to  credit  the  inscription. 

To  look  at  them  became  almost  an  effort,  so  white 
and  clear  they  stared  back,  at  him — as  though  the  pallid 
face  of  the  dead  himself,  set  for  ever  in  raillery,  was 
on  the  watch  to  detect  false  sentiment  and  delight  in  it. 
And  Hamil's  eyes  fell  uneasily  upon  the  flowers,  then 
lifted.  And  he  said  aloud,  unconsciously: 

"  You  are  right ;  it's  too  late,  Malcourt." 

There  was  a  shabby,  neglected  grave  in  the  adjoin 
ing  plot ;  he  bent  over,  gathered  up  Ijis  fiWers,  and  laid 
them  on  the  slab  of  somebody  aged  ninety-three  whose 
name  was  blotted  out  by  wet  dead  leaves.  Then  he  slowly 
returned  to  face  Malcourt,  and  stood  musing,  gloved 
hands  deep  in  his  overcoat  pockets. 

"  If  I  could  have  understood  you — "  he  began,  un 
der  his  breath,  then  fell  silent.  A  few  moments  later 
he  uncovered. 

It  was  snowing  heavily  when  he  turned  to  leave;  and 
he  stood  back  and  aside,  hat  in  hand,  to  permit  a  young 

479 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


woman  to  pass  the  iron  gateway — a  slim  figure  in  black, 
heavy  veil  drawn,  arms  piled  high  with  lilies.  He  knew 
her  at  once  and  she  knew  him. 

"  I  think  you  are  Mr.  Hamil,"  she  said  timidly. 

"  You  are  Miss  Wilming?  "  he  said  in  his  naturally 
pleasant  voice,  which  brought  old  memories  crowding 
upon  her  and  a  pale  flush  to  her  cheeks. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence;  she  dropped  some 
flowers  and  he  recovered  them  for  her.  Then  she  knelt 
down  in  the  sleet,  unconscious  of  it,  and  laid  the  flowers 
on  the  mound,  arranging  them  with  great  care,  while  the 
thickening  snow  pelted  her  and  began  to  veil  the  white 
blossoms  on  the  grave. 

Hamil  hesitated  after  the  girl  had  risen,  and,  pres 
ently,  as  she  did  not  stir,  he  quietly  asked  if  he  might 
be  of  any  use  to  her. 

At  first  she  made  no  reply,  and  her  gaze  remained 
remote;  then,  turning: 

"  Was  he  your  friend?  "  she  asked  wistfully. 

"  I  think  he  meant  to  be." 

"  You  quarrelled — down  there — in  the  South  " — 
she  made  a  vague  gesture  toward  the  gray  horizon. 
"  Do  you  remember  that  night,  Mr.  Hamil  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Did  you  ever  become  friends  again?  " 

"  No.  ...  I  think  he  meant  to  be.  ...  The  fault 
was  probably  mine.  I  misunderstood." 

She  said :  "  I  know  he  cared  a  great  deal  for  you." 

The  man  was  silent. 

She  turned  directly  toward  him,  pale,  clear-eyed, 
and  in  the  poise  of  her  head  a  faint  touch  of  pride. 

"  Please  do  not  misunderstand  his  friendship  for  me, 
then.  If  you  were  his  friend  I  would  not  need  to  say 
this.  He  was  very  kind  to  me,  Mr.  Hamil." 

430 


HAMIL   IS   SILENT 


"  I  do  not  doubt  it,"  said  Hamil  gravely. 

"And  you  do  not  mistake  what  I  say?  " 

He  looked  her  in  the  eyes,  curious — and,  in  a  mo 
ment,  convinced. 

"  No,"  he  said  gently.  .  .  .  And,  offering  his  hand : 
"  Men  are  very  ignorant  concerning  one  another. 
Women  are  wiser,  I  think." 

He  took  the  slender  black-gloved  hand  in  his. 

"  Can  I  be  of  the  least  use  to  you?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  have  been,"  she  sighed,  "  if  what  I  said  has 
taught  you  to  know  him  a  little  better." 

A  week  later  when  the  curtain  fell  on  the  second 
act  of  the  new  musical  comedy,  "  The  Inca,"  critics  pre 
paring  to  leave  questioned  each  other  with  considerable 
curiosity  concerning  this  newcomer,  Dorothy  Wilming, 
who  had  sung  so  intelligently  and  made  so  much  out 
of  a  subordinate  part. 

Nobody  seemed  to  know  very  much  about  her; 
several  nice-looking  young  girls  and  exceedingly  re 
spectable  young  men  sent  her  flowers.  Afterward  they 
gathered  at  the  stage  entrance,  evidently  expecting  to 
meet  and  congratulate  her;  but  she  had  slipped  away. 
And  while  they  hunted  high  and  low,  and  the  last  fig 
urante  had  trotted  off  under  the  lamp-lights,  Dolly  lay 
in  her  own  dark  room,  face  among  the  pillows,  sob 
bing  her  heart  out  for  a  dead  man  who  had  been  kind 
to  her  for  nothing. 

And,  at  the  same  hour,  across  an  ocean,  another  wo 
man  awoke  to  take  up  the  ravelled  threadings  of  her  life 
again  and,  through  another  day,  remember  Louis  Mai- 
court  and  all  that  he  had  left  undone  for  kindness'  sake. 

There  were  others,  too,  who  were  not  likely  to  for- 
481 


THE   FIRING   L7NE 

c~ uu  ru«««i«MBBBHBHHMKU   i^mmr    "~ B+-*mm*u^, 

^et  him.  particularly  those  who  had  received,  with  some 
astonishment,  a  legacy  apiece  of  one  small  Chinese 
gilded  .iiol — images  all  of  the  Pa-hsien  or  of  Kwan-Yin, 
who  rescues  souls  from  hell  with  the  mystic  lotus-prayer, 
"  Om  mane  padme  hum." 

But  the  true  Catholicism,  which  perplexed  the  eigh 
teen  legatees  lay  in  the  paradox  of  the  Mohammedan  in 
scriptions  across  each  lotus  written  in  Ma  Icourt's  hand : 

"  I  direct  my  face  unto  Him  who  hath    reated. 

"  Who  maketh  His  messengers  with  two  and  three 
and  four  pairs  of  wings. 

'c  Ana  ihou  shall  see  them  going  in  procession. 

"  This  is  what  ye  are  promised :  '  For  the  last  hour 
wil]  merely  come;  there  is  no  doubt  thereof;  but  the 
greater  part  \y?.  ~nen  believe  it  not.' 

"  Thus,  facing  the  stars,  I  go  out  among  them  into 
darkness. 

"  Bay  not  for  me  the  Sobhat  with  the  ninety -nine :. 
for  the  hundredth  pearl  is  the  Iman — pearl  beyond 
praise,  pearl  of  the  five-score  names  in  one,  more  precious 
than  mercy,  more  priceless  than  compassion — Iman! 
Iman !  thy  splendid  name  is  Death !  " 

So  lingered  the  living  memory  of  Malcourt  among 
men — a  little  while — longer  among  women — then  faded 
as  shadows  die  at  dusk  when  the  mala  is  told  for  the  soul 
that  waits  the  Rosary  of  a  Thousand  Beads. 

In  January  the  Ariani  sailed  with  her  owner  aboard ; 
but  Hamil  was  not  with  him. 

In  February  Constance  Palliser  wrote  Hamil  from 
Palm  Beach  : 

"  It  is  too  beautiful  here  and  you  must  come. 
"  As   for  Shiela,  I  do  not  even   pretend  to  under- 
482 


HAMIL   IS   SILENT 


stand  her.  I  see  her  every  day ;  to-day  I  lunched  with 
Mrs.  Cardross,  and  Shiela  was  there,  apparently  per 
fectly  well  and  entirely  her  former  lovely  self.  Yet  she 
has  never  yet  spoken  of  you  to  me;  and,  I  learn 
from  Mrs.  Cardross,  never  to  anybody  as  far  as 
she  knows. 

"  She  seems  to  be  in  splendid  health ;  I  have  seen  her 
swimming,  galloping,  playing  tennis  madly.  The  usual 
swarm  of  devoted  youth  and  smitten  middle-age  is  in  at 
tendance.  She  wears  neither  black  nor  colours ;  only 
white;  nor  does  she  go  to  any  sort  of  functions.  At 
times,  to  me,  she  resembles  a  scarcely  grown  girl  just 
freed  from  school  and  playing  hard  every  minute  with 
every  atom  of  heart  and  soul  in  her  play. 

"  Gray  has  an  apology  for  a  polo  field  and  a  string 
of  ponies,  and  Shiela  plays  with  the  men — a  crazy,  reck 
less,  headlong  game,  in  which  every  minute  my  heart  is 
in  my  mouth  for  fear  somebody  will  cannon  into  her, 
or  some  dreadful  swing  of  a  mallet  will  injure  her  for 
life. 

"  But  everybody  is  so  sweet  to  her — and  it  is  de 
lightful  to  see  her  with  her  own  family — their  pride  and 
tenderness  for  her,  and  her  devotion  to  them. 

"  Mrs.  Cardross  asked  me  to-day  what  I  thought 
might  be  the  effect  on  Shiela  if  you  came.  And,  dear,  I 
could  not  answer.  Mr.  Cardross  joined  us,  divining  the 
subject  of  our  furtive  confab  in  the  patio,  and  he  seemed 
to  think  that  you  ought  to  come. 

"  There  is  no  reason  to  hesitate  in  saying  that  the 
family  would  be  very  glad  to  count  you  as  one  of  them. 
Even  a  little  snob  like  myself  can  see  that  there  is,  in 
this  desire  of  theirs,  no  motive  except  affection  for  you 
and  for  Shiela;  and,  in  a  way,  it's  rather  humiliating 
to  recognise  that  they  don't  care  a  fig  for  the  social  ad- 

483 


THE   FIRING  LINE 


vantage  that  must,  automatically,  accrue  to  the  House 
of  Cardross  through  such  connections. 

"  I  never  thought  that  I  should  so  earnestly  hope  for 
such  an  alliance  for  you ;  but  i  do,  Garry.  They  are 
such  simple  folk  with  all  their  riches — simple  as  gentle 
folk — kind,  sincere,  utterly  without  self-consciousness, 
untainted  by  the  sordid  social  ambitions  which  make  so 
many  of  the  wealthy  abhorrent.  There  is  no  pretence 
about  them,  nothing  of  that  uncertainty  of  self  mingled 
with  vanity  which  grows  into  arrogance  or  servility  as 
the  social  weather-vane  veers  with  the  breeze  of  fashion. 
Rather  flowery  that,  for  an  old-fashioned  spinster. 

"  But,  dear,  there  are  other  flowers  than  those  of 
speech  eloquent  in  the  soft  Southern  air — flowers  every 
where  outside  my  open  window  where  I  sit  writing  you. 

"  I  miss  Virginia,  but  Shiela  compensates  when  she 
can  find  time  from  her  breathless  pleasure  chase  to  give 
me  an  hour  or  two  at  tea-time. 

"  And  Cecile,  too,  is  very  charming,  and  I  know 
she  likes  me.  Such  a  coquette !  She  has  her  own  court 
among  the  younger  set ;  and  from  her  very  severe  treat 
ment  of  young  Gatewood  on  all  occasions  I  fancy  she 
may  be  kinder  to  him  one  day. 

"  Mrs.  Carrick  is  not  here  this  winter,  her  new  baby 
keeping  her  in  town ;  and  Acton,  of  course,  is  only  too 
happy  to  remain  with  her. 

"  As  for  Gray,  h£  is  a  nice  boy — a  little  slow,  a 
trifle  shy  and  retiring  and  over-studious;  but  his  de 
votion  to  Shiela  makes  me  love  him.  And  he,  too,  ven 
tured  to  ask  me  whether  you  were  not  coming  down  this 
winter  to  hunt  along  the  Everglades  with  him  and  Little 
Tiger. 

"  So,  dear,  I  think  perhaps  you  had  better  come.  It 
really  frightens  me  to  give  you  this  advice.  I  could 

484 


HAMIL   IS   SILENT 


not  endure  it  if  anything  went  wrong — if  your  coming 
proved  premature. 

"  For  it  is  true,  Garry,  that  I  love  our  little  Shiela 
with  all  my  aged,  priggish,  and  prejudiced  heart,  and 
I  should  simply  expire  if  your  happiness,  which  is  bound 
up  in  her,  were  threatened  by  any  meddling  of  mine. 

"  Jim  Wayward  and  I  discuss  the  matter  every  day ; 
I  don't  know  what  he  thinks — he's  so  obstinate  some 
days — and  sometimes  he  is  irritable  when  Gussie  Vetchen 
and  Cuyp  talk  too  inanely — bless  their  hearts !  I  really 
don't  know  what  I  shall  do  with  James  Wayward.  What 
would  jou  suggest  ?  " 

On  the  heels  of  this  letter  went  another. 

"  Garry,  dear,  read  this  and  then  make  up  your 
mind  whether  to  come  here  or  not. 

"  This  morning  I  was  sitting  on  the  Cardrosses'  ter 
race  knitting  a  red  four-in-hand  for  Mr.  Wayward — 
he  is  too  snuffy  in  his  browns  and  grays ! — and  Mrs. 
Cardross  was  knitting  one  for  Neville,  and  Cecile  was 
knitting  one  for  Heaven  knows  who,  and  Shiela,  swing 
ing  her  polo-mallet,  sat  waiting  for  her  pony — the  cun 
ning  little  thing  in  her  boots  and  breeches! — I  mean 
the  girl,  not  the  pony,  dear — Oh,  my,  I'm  getting  in 
volved  and  you're  hurrying  through  this  scrawl  per 
fectly  furious,  trying  to  find  out  what  I'm  talking 
about. 

"  Well,  then ;  I  forgot  for  a  moment  that  Shiela 
was  there  within  ear-shot;  and  eyes  on  my  knitting,  I 
began  talking  about  you  to  Mrs.  Cardross ;  and  I  had 
been  gossiping  away  quite  innocently  for  almost  a  min 
ute  when  I  chanced  to  look  up  and  notice  the  peculiar 
expressions  of  Mrs.  Cardross  and  Cecile.  They  weren't 

485 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


looking  at  me;  they  were  watching  Shiela,  who  had 
slipped  down  from  the  parapet  where  she  had  been 
perched  and  now  stood  beside  my  chair  listening. 

"  I  hesitated,  faltered,  b~it  did  not  make  the  mis 
take  of  stopping  or  changing  the  subject,  but  went 
on  gaily  telling  about  your  work  on  the  new  Long 
Island  park  system. 

"  And  as  long  as  I  talked  she  remained  motionless 
beside  me.  They  brought  around  her  pony — a  new  one 
— but  she  did  not  stir. 

"  Her  mother  and  sister  continued  their  knitting, 
asking  questions  about  you  now  and  then,  apparently 
taking  no  notice  of  her.  My  monologue  in  praise  of  you 
became  a  triangular  discussion;  and  all  the  while  the 
pony  was  cutting  up  the  marl  drive  with  impatience, 
and  Shiela  never  stirred. 

"  Then  Cecile  said  to  me  quite  naturally :  '  I  wish 
Garry  were  here.'  And,  looking  up  at  Shiela,  she 
added:  'Don't  you?' 

"  For  a  second  or  two  there  was  absolute  silence ;  and 
then  Shiela  said  to  me : 

"  *  Does  he  know  I  have  been  ill?  ' 

"  '  Of  course,'  I  said,  '  and  he  knows  that  you  are 
now  perfectly  well.' 

"  She  turned  slowly  to  her  mother :  '  Am  I  ?  *  she 
asked. 

"'What,  dear?' 

"  '  Perfectly  well.' 

"  '  Certainly,'  replied  her  mother,  laughing ;  '  well 
enough  to  break  your  neck  on  that  horrid,  jigging,  lit 
tle  pony.  If  Garry  wants  to  see  you  alive  he'd  better 
come  pretty  soon ' 

'"Come  here?9 

"  We  all  looked  up  at  her.  Oh,  Garry !  For  a  rao- 
486 


HAMIL   IS   SILENT 


merit  something  came  into  her  eyes  that  I  never  want 
to  see  there  again — and,  please  God,  never  shall! — a 
momentary  light  like  a  pale  afterglow  of  terror. 

"  It  went  as  it  came ;  and  the  colour  returned  to  her 
face. 

"'Is  he  coming  here?'  she  asked  calmly. 

"  '  Yes,'  I  made  bold  to  say. 

"'When?' 

"  *  In  a  few  days,  I  hope.' 

"  She  said  nothing  more  about  you,  nor  did  I.  A 
moment  later  she  sent  away  her  pony  and  went  indoors, 

"  After  luncheon  I  found  her  lying  in  the  hammock 
in  the  patio,  eyes  closed  as  though  asleep.  She  lay  there 
all  the  afternoon — an  unusual  thing  for  her. 

"  Toward  sundown,  as  I  was  entering  my  chair  to 
go  back  to  the  hotel,  she  came  out  and  stood  beside  the 
chair  looking  at  me  as  though  she  was  trying  to  say 
something.  I  don't  know  what  it  might  have  been,  for 
she  never  said  it,  but  she  bent  down  and  laid  her  cheek 
against  mine  for  a  moment,  and  drew  my  head  around, 
searching  my  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  was  right  or  wrong,  but 
I  fisid :  "  There  is  no  one  to  compare  with  you,  Shiela, 
in  your  new  incarnation  of  health  and  youth.  I  never 
before  knew  you ;  I  don't  think  you  ever  before  knew 
yourself.' 

"  '  Not  entirely,'  she  said. 

"  '  Do  you  now?  ' 

"'I  think  so.   ...  May  I  ask  you  something?' 

"  I  nodded,  smiling. 

"  *  Then — there  is  only  one  thing  I  care  for  now — 
to ' — she  looked  up  toward  the  house — '  to  make  them 
contented — to  make  up  to  them  what  I  can  for — for  all 
that  I  failed  in.     Do  you  understand?  ' 
32  487 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


"  *  Yes,'  I  said,  '  you  sweet  thing.'  And  gave  her 
a  little  hug,  adding :  *  And  that's  why  I'm  going  to  write 
a  letter  to-night — at  your  mother's  desire — and  my 
own.' 

"  She  said  nothing  more ;  my  chair  rolled  away ;  and 
here's  the  letter  that  I  told  her  I  meant  to  write. 

"  *  Now,  dear,  come  if  you  think  best.  I  don't  know 
of  any  reason  why  you  should  not  come ;  if  you  know  of 
any  you  must  act  on  your  own  responsibility.' 

"  Last  winter,  believing  that  she  cared  for  you,  I 
did  an  extraordinary  thing — in  fact  I  intimated  to  her 
that  it  was  agreeable  for  me  to  believe  you  cared  for 
each  other.  And  she  told  me  very  sweetly  that  I  was 
in  error. 

"  So  I'm  not  going  to  place  Constance  Palliser  in 
such  a  position  again.  If  there's  any  chance  of  her 
caring  for  you  you  ought  to  know  it  and  act  accord 
ingly.  Personally  I  think  there  is  and  that  you  should 
take  that  chance  and  take  it  now.  But  for  goodness* 
sake  don't  act  on  my  advice.  I'm  a  perfect  fool  to  med 
dle  this  way ;  besides  I'm  having  troubles  of  my  own 
which  you  know  nothing  about. 

"  O  Garry,  dear,  if  you'll  come  down  I  may  per 
haps  have  something  very,  very  foolish  to  tell  you. 

"  Truly  there  is  no  idiot  like  an  old  one,  but — I'm 
close,  I  think,  to  being  happier  than  I  ever  was  in  all 
my  life.     God  help  us  both,  my  dear,  dear  boy. 
"  Your  faithful  - 

"  CONSTANCE." 


CHAPTER    XXIX 


Two  days  later  as  his  pretty  aunt  stood  in  her 
chamber  shaking  out  the  chestnut  masses  of  her  hair 
before  her  mirror,  an  impatient  rapping  at  the  living- 
room  door  sent  her  maid  flying. 

"  That's  Garry,"  said  Constance  calmly,  belting  in 
her  chamber-robe  of  silk  and  twisting  up  her  hair  into 
one  heavy  lustrous  knot. 

A  moment  later  they  had  exchanged  salutes  and, 
holding  both  his  hands  in  hers,  she  stood  looking  at  him, 
golden  brown  eyes  very  tender,  cheeks  becomingly  pink. 

"  That  miserable  train  is  early ;  it  happens  once  in 
a  century.  I  meant  to  meet  you,  dear." 

"  Wayward  met  me  at  the  station,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  silence;  under  his  curious  and  signifi 
cant  gaze  she  flushed,  then  laughed. 

"  Wayward  said  that  you  had  something  to  tell 
me,"  he  added.  ..."  Constance,  is  it " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  darling !  "  he  whispered,  taking  her  into  his 
arms.  And  she  laid  her  face  on  his  shoulder,  crying  a 
little,  laughing  a  little. 

"  After  all  these  years,  Garry — all  these  years !  It 
is  a  long  time  to — to  care  for  a  man — a  long,  long  time. 
.  .  .  But  there  never  was  any  other — not  even  through 

that  dreadful  period " 

489 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


«  I  know." 

"Yes,  you  know.  .  .  .  I  har.  cared  for  him  since 
I  was  a  little  girl." 

They  stood  a  while  talknig  tenderly,  intimately  of 
her  new  happiness  and  of  the  new  man,  Wayward. 

Both  knew  that  he  must  bear  his  scars  for  ever,  that 
youth  had  died  in  him.  But  they  were  very  confident 
and  happy  standing  there  together  in  the  sunlight  which 
poured  into  the  room,  transfiguring  her.  And  she  truly 
seemed  as  lovely,  radiant,  and  youthful  as  her  own 
young  heart,  unsullied,  innocent,  now,  as  when  it  yielded 
its  first  love  so  long  ago  amid  the  rosewood  and  bro 
cades  of  the  old-time  parlour  where  the  sun  fell  across 
the  faded  roses  of  the  carpet. 

"  I  knew  it  was  so  from  the  way  he  shook  hands," 
said  Hamil,  smiling.  "  How  well  he  looks,  Constance ! 
And  as  for  you — you  are  a  real  beauty ! " 

"  You  don't  think  so !  But  say  it,  Garry.  .  .  .  And 
now  I  think  I  had  better  retire  and  complete  this  sn- 
ceremonious  toilet.  .  .  .  And  you  may  stroll  over  U 
pay  your  respects  to  Mrs.  Cardross  in  the  meanwhile 
if  you  choose." 

He  looked  at  her  gravely.  She  nodded.  "  They  all 
know  you  are  due  to-day." 

"Shiela?" 

"  Yes.  ...  Be  careful,  Garry ;  she  is  very  young 
after  all.  ...  I  think — if  I  were  you — I  would  not 
even  seem  conscious  that  she  had  been  ill — that  anything 
had  happened  to  interrupt  your  friendship.  She  is  very 
sensitive,  very  deeply  sensible  of  the  dreadful  mistake 
she  made,  and,  somehow,  I  think  she  is  a  little  afraid 
of  you,  as  though  you  might  possibly  think  less  of  her — 
Heaven  knows  what  ideas  the  young  conjure  to  worry 
themselves  and  those  they  care  for ! " 

490 


CALYPSO'S   GIFT 


She  laughed,  kissed  him,  and  bowed  him  out ;  and 
he  went  away  to  bathe  and  change  into  cool  clothing 
of  white  serge. 

Later  as  he  passed  through  the  gardens,  a  white 
oleander  blossom  fell,  and  he  picked  it  up  and  drew 
it  through  his  coat. 

Shadows  of  palm  and  palmetto  stretched  westward 
across  the  white  shell  road,  striping  his  path ;  early  sun 
light  crinkled  the  lagoon;  the  little  wild  ducks  steered 
fearlessly  inshore,  peering  up  at  him  with  bright  golden- 
irised  eyes;  mullet  jumped  heavily,  tumbling  back  into 
the  water  with  splashes  that  echoed  through  the  morn 
ing  stillness. 

The  stained  bronze  cannon  still  poked  their  ancient 
and  flaring  muzzles  out  over  the  lake;  farther  along 
crimson  hibiscus  blossoms  blazed  from  every  hedge ;  and 
above  him  the  stately  plumes  of  royal  palms  hung  mo 
tionless,  tufting  the  trunks,  which  rose  with  the  shaft- 
like  dignity  of  slender  Egyptian  pillars  into  a  cloudless 
sky. 

On  he  went,  along  endless  hedges  of  azalea  and 
oleander,  past  thickets  of  Spanish-bayonet,  under  lean 
ing  cocoanut-palms ;  and  at  last  the  huge  banyan-tree 
rose  sprawling  across  the  sky-line,  and  he  saw  the  white 
facades  and  red-tiled  roofs  beyond. 

All  around  him  now,  as  the  air  grew  sweet  with  the 
breath  of  orange  blossoms,  a  subtler  scent,  delicately  >' 
persistent,  came  to  him  on  the  sea-wind ;  and  he  re 
membered  it! — the  lilac  perfume  of  China-berry  in 
bloorn ;  Calypso's  own  immortal  fragrance.  And,  in  the 
brilliant  sunshine,  there  under  green  trees  with  the  dome 
of  blue  above,  unbidden,  the  shadows  of  the  past  rose 
up;  and  once  more  lantern-lit  faces  crowded  through 
the  aromatic  dark ;  once  more  the  fountains'  haze  drifted 

491 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


across  dim  lawns ;  once  more  he  caught  the  faint,  un 
certain  rustle  of  her  gown  close  to  him  as  she  passed 
like  a  fresh  breath  through  the  dusk. 

Overhead  a  little  breeze  became  entangled  in  the 
palmetto  fronds,  setting  them  softly  clashing  together  as 
though  a  million  unseen  elfin  hands  were  welcoming*  his 
return;  the  big  black-and-gold  butterflies,  beating  up 
against  the  sudden  air  current,  flapped  back  to  their 
honeyed  haven  in  the  orange  grove;  bold,  yellow-eyed 
grackle  stared  at  him  from  the  grass;  a  bird  like  a 
winged  streak  of  flame  flashed  through  the  jungle  and 
was  gone. 

And  now  every  breath  he  drew  was  quickening  his 
pulses  with  the  sense  of  home-coming;  he  saw  the  ml- 
bellied  woodpeckers  sticking  like  shreds  of  checked 
gingham  to  the  trees,  turning  their  pointed  heads  in 
curiously  as  he  passed ;  the  welling  notes  of  a  wren  bub 
bled  upward  through  the  sun-shot  azure;  high  in  the 
vault  above  an  eagle  was  passing  seaward,  silver  of 
tail  and  crest,  winged  with  bronze;  and  everywhere  on 
every  side  glittered  the  gold-and-saffron  dragon-flies  of 
the  South  like  the  play  of  sunbeams  on  a  green  lagoon. 

Under  the  sapodilla-trees  on  the  lawn  two  aged, 
white-clad  negro  servants  were  gathering  fruit  forbid 
den  them ;  and  at  sight  of  him  two  wrinkled  black  hands 
furtively  wiped  two  furrowed  faces  free  from  incriminat 
ing  evidence ;  two  solemn  pairs  of  eyes  rolled  piously  in 
his  direction. 

"  Mohnin',  suh,  Mistuh  Hamil." 

"  Good  morning,  Jonas ;  good  morning,  Archimedes. 
Mr.  Cardross  is  in  the  orange  grove,  I  see." 

And,  smiling,  passed  the  guilty  ones  with  a  humor 
ously  threatening  shake  of  his  head. 

A  black  boy,  grinning,  opened  the  gate ;  the  quick- 


CALYPSO'S   GIFT 


stepping  figure  in  white  flannels  glanced  around  at  the 
click  of  the  latch. 

"  Hamil !  Good  work !  I  am  glad  to  see  you !  " — his 
firm,  sun-burnt  hands  closing  over  Hamil' s — "  glad  all 
through !  " 

"  Not  as  glad  as  I  am,  Mr.  Cardross " 

"  Yes,  I  am.  Why  didn't  you  come  before  ?  The 
weather  has  been  heavenly ;  everybody  wanted  you " 

"  Everybody?  " 

"  Yes — yes,  of  course !  .  .  .  Well,  look  here,  Hamil, 
I've  no  authority  to  discuss  that  matter;  but  her 
mother,  I  think,  has  made  matters  clear  to  her — con 
cerning  our  personal  wishes — ah — hum — is  that  what 
you're  driving  at  ?  " 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  May  I  ask  her  ?  I  came  here  to  ask 
her." 

"  We  all  know  that,"  said  Cardross  naively.  "  Your 
aunt  is  a  very  fine  woman,  Hamil.  ...  I  don't  see  why 
you  shouldn't  tell  Shiela  anything  you  want  to.  We  all 
wish  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  younger  man.  Their  hand 
grip  tightened  and  parted;  shoulder  to  shoulder  they 
swung  into  step  across  the  lawn,  Cardross  planting  his 
white-shod  feet  with  habitual  precision. 

His  hair  and  moustache  were  very  white  in  contrast 
to  the  ruddy  sun-burnt  skin ;  and  he  spoke  of  his  altered 
appearance  with  one  of  his  quick  smiles. 

"  They  nearly  had  me  in  the  panic,  Hamil.  The 
Shoshone  weathered  the  scare  by  grace  of  God  and  my 
little  daughter's  generosity.  And  it  came  fast  when 
it  came;  we  were  under  bare  poles,  too,  and  I  didn't 
expect  any  cordiality  from  the  Clearing  House;  but, 
Hamil,  they  classed  us  with  the  old-liners,  and  they  acted 
most  decently.  As  for  my  little  daughter — well — —" 

493 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


And  to  his  own  and  Hamil's  embarrassment  his  clear 
eyes  suddenly  grew  dim  and  he  walked  forward  a  step 
or  two  winking  rapidly  at  the  sky. 

Gray,  bare  of  arm  to  the  shoulder,  booted  and  bare 
headed,  loped  across  the  grass  on  his  polo-pony,  mallet 
at  salute.  Then  he  leaned  down  from  his  saddle  and 
greeted  Hamil  with  unspoiled  enthusiasm. 

"  Shiela  is  practising  and  wants  you  to  come  over 
when  you  can  and  see  us  knock  the  ball  about.  It's  a 
rotten  field,  but  you  can't  help  that  down  here." 

And  clapping  his  spurless  heels  to  his  pony  he  sa 
luted  and  wheeled  away  through  the  hammock. 

On  the  terrace  Mrs.  Cardross  took  his  hands  in  her 
tremulous  and  pudgy  fingers.  * 

"  Are  you  sure  you  are  perfectly  well,  Garry  ? 
Don't  you  think  it  safer  to  begin  at  once  with  a  mild 

dose  of  quinine  and  follow  it  every  three  hours  with 
a » 

"  Amy,  dear ! "  murmured  her  husband,  "  I  am  not 
dreaming  of  interfering,  but  I,  personally,  never  saw 
a  finer  specimen  of  physical  health  than  this  boy  you 
are  preparing  to — be  good  to " 

"  Neville,  you  know  absolutely  nothing  sometimes," 
observed  his  wife  serenely.  Then  looking  up  at  the  tall 
young  man  bending  over  her  chair: 

"  You  won't  need  as  much  as  you  required  when  you 
rode  into  the  swamps  every  day,  but  you  don't  mind 
my  prescribing  for  you  now  and  then,  do  you,  Garry?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  do  it,"  he  said,  looking 
at  Cardross  unblushingly.  And  at  such  perfidy  the 
older  man  turned  away  with  an  unfeigned  groan  just 
as  Cecile,  tennis-bat  in  hand,  came  out  from  the  hall, 
saw  him,  dropped  the  bat,  and  walked  straight  into  his 
arms. 

494 


CALYPSO'S   GIFT 

...  . .   -wvMO^HHHBBBMr iwfztttjM^vwriKiMw  rw. ~wr 

"  Cecile,3'"  observed  her  mother  mildly, 

"  But  I  wish  to  hug  him,  mother,  and  he  doesn't 
mind." 

Her  mother  laughed ;  Hamil,  a  trifle  red,  received  a 
straightforward  salute  square  on  the  mouth. 

"  That,"  she  said  with  cak^  conviction,  "  is  the  most 
proper  and  fitting  thing  you  a^o  I  have  ever  done, 
Mother,  you  know  it  is."  And  passing  her  arm  through 
Hamil's : 

"  Last  night,"  she  said  under  her  brer.'**',,  "  '  went 
into  Shiela's  room  to  say  good-night,  and — and  we  both 
began  to  cry  a  little.  It  was  as  though  I  were  giving 
up  my  controlling  ownership  in  a  dear  and  familiar  pos 
session  ;  we  did  not  speak  of  you — I  don't  remember  that 
we  spoke  at  all  fi  om  the  time  I  entered  her  room  to  the 
time  I  left — whic  was  fearfully  late.  But  I  knew  that 
I  was  giving  up  me  vague  proprietary  right  in  her — 
that,  to-day,  th;  right  would  pass  to  another.  .  .  . 
And,  if  I  kissed  you,  Garry,  it  was  in  recognition  of  the 
passing  of  that  right  to  you — and  happy  acquiescence 
in  it,  dear — believe  me!  happy,  confident  renunciation 
and  gratitude  for  what  must  be." 

They  had  walked  together  to  the  southern  enu  oi 
the  terrace;  bdow  stretched  the  splendid  forest  vista 
set  with  pool  and  fountain;  under  the  parapet,  in  the 
new  garden,  r&i  and  white  roses  bloomed,  and  on  the 
surface  of  sp. -ay-dimmed  basins  the  jagged  crimson  re 
flections  of  goldfish  dappled  every  unquiet  pool. 

"  Where  is  the  new  polo  field?  "  he  asked. 

She  pointed  out  an  unfamiliar  path  curving  west 
from  the  tennis-courts,  nodded,  smiled,  returning  the 
pressure  of  his  hand,  and  stood  watching  him  from  the 
parapet  until  he  vanished  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees. 

The  path  was  a  new  one  to  him,  cut  during  the  sum- 
495 


THE   FIRING   LINE 


mer.  For  a  quarter  of  a  mile  it  wound  through  the 
virgin  hammock,  suddenly  emerging  into  a  sunny  clear 
ing  where  an  old  orange  grove  grown  up  with  tangles 
of  brier  and  vine  had  partly  given  place  to  the  advance 
of  the  jungle. 

Something  glimmered  over  there  among  the  trees — 
a  girl,  coated  and  skirted  in  snowy  white,  sitting  a  pony, 
and  leisurely  picking  and  eating  the  great  black  mul 
berries  that  weighted  the  branches  so  that  they  bent  al 
most  to  the  breaking. 

She  saw  him  from  a  distance,  turned  in  her  saddle, 
lifting  her  polo-mallet  in  recognition ;  and  as  he  came, 
pushing  his  way  across  the  clearing,  almost  shoulder- 
deep  through  weeds,  from  which  the  silver-spotted  but 
terflies  rose  in  clouds,  she  stripped  off  one  stained  glove, 
and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  You  were  so  long  in  coming,"  she  managed  to  say, 
calmly,  "  I  thought  I'd  ride  part  way  back  to  meet  you ; 
and  fell  a  victim  to  these  mulberries.  Tempted  and  fell, 
you  see.  .  .  .  Are  you  well  ?  It  is  nice  to  see  you." 

And  as  he  still  retained  her  slim  white  hand  in  both 
of  his: 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  new  pony  ?  "  she  asked, 
forcing  a  smile.  "  He's  teaching  me  the  real  game.  .  .  . 
I  left  the  others  when  Gray  came  up ;  Cuyp,  Phil  Gate- 
wood,  and  some  other  men  are  practising.  You'll  play 
to-morrow,  won't  you?  It's  such  a  splendid  game." 
She  was  talking  at  random,  now,  as  though  the  sound 
of  her  own  voice  were  sustaining  her  with  its  nervous 
informality ;  and  she  chattered  on  in  feverish  animation, 
bridging  every  threatened  silence  with  gay  inconse 
quences. 

"  You  play  polo,  of  course?    Tell  me  you  do." 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  I  don't " 

496 


CALYPSO'S    GIFT 


"  But  you'll  try  if  I  ask  you?  " 

He  still  held  her  hand  imprisoned — that  fragrant, 
listless  little  hand,  so  lifeless,  nerveless,  unresponsive — 
as  though  it  were  no  longer  a  part  of  her  and  she  had 
forgotten  it. 

"  I'll  do  anything  you  wish,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  Then  don't  eat  any  of  these  mulberries  until 
you  are  acclimated.  I'm  sorry;  they  are  so  delicious. 
But  I  won't  eat  any  more,  either." 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said,  bending  down  a  heavily  laden 
bough  for  her.  "  Eat !  daughter  of  Eve !  This  fruit 
is  highly  recommended." 

"  Oh,  Garry !  I'm  not  such  a  pig  as  that !  .  .  . 
Well,  then ;  if  you  make  me  do  it " 

She  lifted  her  face  among  the  tender  leaves,  detached 
a  luscious  berry  with  her  lips,  absorbed  it  reflectively, 
and  shook  her  head  with  decision. 

The  shadow  of  constraint  was  fast  slipping  from 
them  both. 

"  You  know  you  enjoy  it,"  he  insisted,  laughing 
naturally. 

"  No,  I  don't  enjoy  it  at  all,"  she  retorted  indig 
nantly.  "  I'll  not  taste  another  until  you  are  ready 
to  do  your  part.  .  .  .  I've  forgotten,  Garry;  did  the 
serpent  eat  the  fruit  he  recommended?  " 

"  Pie  was  too  wise,  not  being  acclimated  in  Eden." 

She  turned  in  her  saddle,  laughing,  and  sat  looking 
down  at  him — then,  more  gravely,  at  her  ungloved  hand 
which  he  still  retained  in  both  of  his. 

Silence  fell,  and  found  them  ready  for  it. 

For  a  long  while  they  said  nothing;  she  slipped  one 
leg  over  the  pommel  and  sat  sideways,  elbow  on  knee, 
chin  propped  in  her  gloved  hand.  At  times  her  eyes 
wandered  over  the  sunny  clearing,  but  always  reverted 

497 


THE   /  IRING   LINE 


to  him  where  he  stood  leaning  against  her  ~t,irrup  and 
looking  up  at  her  as  though  he  never  could  look  enough. 

The  faint,  fresh  perfume  of  China-berry  was  in  the 
air,  delicately  persistent  amid  the  heavy  odours  from 
tufts  of  orange  flowers  clinging  to  worn-out  trees  of  the 
abandoned  orove. 

"  Your  own  fragrance,"  he  said. 

She  looked  down  at  him,  dreamily.  He  bent  and 
touched  with  his  face  the  hand  he  held  imprisoned. 

"  There  was  once,"  he  said,  "  among  the  immortals 
a  maid,  Calypso.  .  .  .  Do  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  have  not  forgotten  my 
only  title  to  immortality." 

Their  gaze  met ;  then  he  stepped  closer. 

She  raised  both  arms,  crossing  them  to  cover  her 
eyes ;  his  arms  circled  her,  lifted  her  from  the  saddle, 
holding  her  a  moment  above  the  earth,  free,  glorious, 
superb  in  her  vivid  beauty;  then  he  swung  her  to  the 
ground,  holding  her  embraced ;  and  as  she  abandoned  to 
him,  one  by  one,  her  hands  and  mouth  and  throat,  her 
gaze  never  left  him — clear,  unfaltering  eyes  of  a  child 
innocent  enough  to  look  on  passion  unafraid — fearless, 
confident  eyes,  wondering,  worshipping  in  unison  with 
the  deepening  adoration  in  his. 

"  I  love  you  so,"  she  said,  "  I  love  you  so  for  mak 
ing  me  what  I  am.  I  can  be  all  that  you  could  wish  for 
if  you  only  say  it " 

She  smiled,  unconvinced  at  his  tender  protest,  wise, 
sweet  eyes  on  his. 

"  What  a  boy  you  are,  sometimes ! — as  though  I  did 
not  know  myself!  Dear,  it  is  for  you  to  say  what  I 
shall  be.  I  am  capable  of  being  what  you  think  I  am. 
Don't  you  know  it,  Garry  ?  It  is  only • 

She  felt  a  cool,  thin  pressure  on  her  finger,  and 
498 


CALYPSO'S    GIFT 


glanced  down  at  the  ring  sparkling  white  fire.  She 
lifted  her  hand,  doubling  it;  looked  at  the  gem  for  a 
moment,  laid  it  against  her  mouth.  Then,  with  dimmed 
eyes : 

"  Your  love,  your  name,  your  ring  for  this  nameless 
girl  ?  And  I — what  can  I  give  for  a  bridal  gift  ?  " 

"  What  sweet  nonsense " 

"  What  can  I  give,  Garry  ?    Don't  laugh " 

"  Calypso,  dear " 

"  Yes — Calypso's  offer ! — immortal  love — endless, 
deathless.  It  is  all  I  have  to  give  you,  Garry.  .  .  .  Will 
you  take  it?  ...  Take  it,  then." 

And,  locked  in  his  embrace,  she  lifted  her  lips  to  his. 


(ff) 


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/make  women  realize  the  part  that  politics  play— even  in  their 
romances, 

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The  Prodigal  Judge 


By  VAUGHAN  KESTER 

This  great  novel — probably  the  most  popular  book  in 
this  country  to-day — is  as  human  as  a  story  from  the  pen 
of  that  great  master  of  immortal  laughter  and  immortal 
tears,"  Charles  Dickens. 

The  Prodigal  Judge  is  a  shabby  outcast,  a  tavern  hang 
er-on,  a  genial  wayfarer  who  tarries  longest  where  the  inn 
is  most  hospitable,  yet  with  that  suavity,  that  distinctive 
politeness  and  that  saving  grace  of  humor  peculiar  to  the 
American  man.  He  has  his  own  code  of  morals — very 
exalted  ones — but  honors  them  in  the  breach  rather  than 
in  the  observance. 

Clinging  to  the  Judge  closer  than  a  brother,  is  Solomon 
MahafFy — fallible  and  failing  like  the  rest  of  us,  but  with 
a  sublime  capacity  for  friendship;  and  closer  still,  perhaps, 
clings  little  Hannibal,  a  boy  about  whose  parentage 
nothing  is  known  until  the  end  of  the  story.  Hannibal 
is  charmed  into  tolerance  of  the  Judge's  picturesque 
vices,  while  Miss  Betty,  lovely  and  capricious,  is  charmed 
into  placing  all  her  affairs,  both  material  and  sentimental, 
in  the  hands  of  this  delightful  old  vagabond. 

The  Judge  will  be  a  fixed  star  in  the  firmament  of 
fictional  characters  as  surely  as  David  Harum  or  Col. 
Sellers.  He  is  a  source  of  infinite  delight,  while  this  story 
of  Mr.  Kester's  is  one  of  the  finest  examples  of  Ameri 
can  literary  craftmanship. 

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The  Master's  Violin 


By  MYRTLE  REED 


•VIOLIN 


BY 
MYRTLE  REED 


A  Love  Story  with  a  musical  at 
mosphere.  A  picturesque,  old 
German  virtuoso  is  the  rever 
ent  possessor  of  a  genuine  Cre 
mona.  He  consents  to  take  as 
his  pupil  a  handsome  youth  who 
proves  to  have  an  aptitude  for 
technique,  but  not  the  soul  of 
the  artist.  The  youth  has  led  the 
happy,  careless  life  of  a  modern, 
well-to-do  young  American,  and 
he  cannot,  with  his  meagre  past, 
express  the  love,  the  longing,  the  passion  and  the  trage 
dies  of  life  and  its  happy  phases  as  can  the  master  who 
has  lived  life  in  all  its  fulness.  But  a  girl  comes  into 
his  existence,  a  beautiful  bit  of  human  driftwood  that 
his  aunt  had  taken  into  her  heart  and  home ;  and  through 
his  passionate  love  for  her,  he  learns  the  lessons  that  life 
has  to  give — and  his  soul  awakens. 

Founded  on  a  fact  well  known  among  artists,  but  not 
often  recognized  or  discussed. 

If  you  have  not  read  "LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE"  by  the 
same  author,  you  have  a  double  pleasure  in  store — for 
these  two  books  show  Myrtle  Reed  in  her  most  delightful, 
fascinating  vein — indeed  they  may  be  considered  as  mas 
terpieces  of  compelling  interest. 

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TITLES   SELECTED  FROM 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP'S    LIST 

REALISTIC,  ENGAGING  PICTURES  OF  LIFE 


THE  GARDEN  OF  FATE.  By  Roy  Norton.  Illustrated 

by  Joseph  Clement  Coll. 

J  The  colorful  romance  of  9n  American  girl  in  Morocco,  an(3 
of  a  beautiful  garden,  whose  beauty  and  traditions  of  strange 
subtle  happenings  were  closed  to  the  world  by  a  Sultan's  seal. 

THE  MAN  HIGHER  UP.    By  Henry  Russell  Miller. 

Full  page  vignette  illustrations  by  M.  Leone  Bracker. 

The  story  of  a  tenement  waif  who  rose  by  his  own  ingenuity 

to  the  office  of  mayor  of  his  native  city.    His  experiences 

while  "climbing,"  make  a  most  interesting  example  of  the 

possibilities  of  human  nature  to  rise  above  circumstances. 

THE  KEY  TO  YESTERDAY.      By  Charles  Neville 
Buck.     Illustrated  by  R.  Schabelitz. 

Robert  Saxon,  a  prominent  artist,  has  an  accident,  while  in 
Paris,  T;hich  obliterates  his  memory,  and  the  only  clue  he  has 
So  his  former  life  is  a  rusty  key.  What  door  in  Paris  will  it 
unlock  ?  He  must  know  that  before  he  woos  the  girl  he  ioves. 

THE  DANGER  TRAIL.    By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Illustrated  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull, 
The  danger  trail  is  over  the  snow-smothered  North.    A 
young  Chicago  engineer,  who  is  building  a  road  through  the 
Hudson  Bay  region,  is  involved  in  mystery,  and  is  led  into 
imbush  by  a  young  woman. 

THE  GAY  LORD  WARING.    By  Houghton  Townley. 

Illustrated  by  Will  Grefe. 

A  story  of  the  smart  hunting  set  in  England.  A  gay  young 
lord  wins  in  love  against  his  selfish  and  cowardly  brother  and 
apparently  against  fate  itself. 

'BY  INHERITANCE.     By  Octave  Thanet.    Illustrated 

by  Thomas  Fogarty.    Elaborate  wrapper  in  colors. 

A  wealthy  New  England  spinster  with  the  most  elaborate 

plans  for  the  education  of  the  negro  goes  to  visit  her  nephew 

in  Arkansas,  where  she  learns  the  needs  of  the  colored  race 

first  hand  and  begins  to  lose  her  theories. 

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